Spring we are grateful
for this
the shattering of the cloud and
the continued warmth of the sun
who has found his incandescence
in the winter's compact fluoresence
for this your
first flowers and the first
open hearts in joy
and the beholding of brightness
more red than red
of the premature rose
for this the
eyes of my countrymen
and of my friends
who see you and are so
glad of sight that their
throat cannot sing their joy
o thank you spring
a million years you've come but
thank you every time
1 comment:
I like that this sounded so much like an invocation, like a ritual song for spring's arrival each year that would be sung by pagans as they dance around in a flower-woven circle. So I think you got that down great. The last three lines were my favourite - maybe because they ring so true, and you can really feel that gratitude for spring. Spring never gets old.
The one thing that bothers me is "more red than red / of the premature rose". I feel like you could have said that more eloquently, whereas this feels like an image that's been used before, and too often.
Otherwise whooo spring! I'm in the midst of autumn but I can still feel the sigh of relief from this poem!
Post a Comment