What drives the poet's vernal ruminations?
To thaw and bud and shake their boughs
they shed the cold of Winter's coat
and free their Selves from such a state of numb.

What lies behind the waking light of day?
It greens the earth and blues the sky
it sweeps you up and smiles wide
its tears of glee are warm against your face.

I pry again of poetry's ceaseless plunder
of blues and greens and skies and clouds
of dirt and grass and life resound
they bask in light that fills the mind with wonder.