“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” Margaret Atwood*

Spring is here
The awaking commences
Marching green explodes into life
Buds transform into leaves on the trees
Flowers explode across the timeless stage
There’s just enough time to plant what we need
Sprinkles rain down on this hallowed ground
Sprouts run up from the roots to play
The sun tickles life from the wind and the rain
Across the field the purchase is made
Grazing is easy on the tundra in Spring
We’re lost in the movement of wings on the breeze
Content with the dance that our reason believes
We settle our thoughts with the buzzing of bees
And capture the moments we’re so glad to receive