Amy Lowell: Lilacs
The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs
Peer restlessly through the light and shadow
Of all Springs.
Antonia Alexandra Klimenko: Yes, I affirmed…
It was then that the light filtered through the curtain and passed through me as all things pass. Breathing out. Breathing in. Breathing out. Breathing in. Ah, Spring!
Gerry LaFemina: Spring Redux
Every bird’s got perfect pitch
they remind me again,
even that bitchy blue jay
on the high branches of the apple tree.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Song of a Second April
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.
James Crews: Beech Trees in Spring
Perhaps they need the reassurance,
or maybe they’re here to lend music
to the silence of winter
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: You Belong
It’s not true our hearts are our own—
they’re symbiotic as meadows in spring.
The heart exists for who grows in it.
James Crews: Two Poems
Why do we try
to rush delight, strong-arm joy
into busy lives, when so much
beauty already seeds itself beneath
our restless feet?
Richard Levine: Spring Ephemerals
We are met in this clearing, on this hill,
a breeze pronouncing itself in the still
bare tree crowns.
James Crews: Choosing the Light
Relentless
as the urge that also blooms in us—
to find the things that bring us alive,
and open ourselves fully to them, never
giving up
Chard deNiord: April
There is a new quality in the air: a sweet
fragrance from the first flowers—that smell
spring passes under your nose to wake you
again, more than wake you, stir you
Alice Friman: Puddles
As if overnight, the flowering pear tree
is flowering. A froth of white.
Dawn Potter: Late April
Ghosts shimmered on the broken doorstep,
rising through dust to become my own new skin
Gail Langstroth: Easter Sunday
then The Sun This Morning : one round, middle C
