you know its spring
when the chill of winter
releases the song of the finch
with the ripples of joyous paean.
when the robin from her nest
does her up-down dance
on the miry ground in search
of those that creep and crawl
when mud awakens
from its solidified slumber
to splash rampantly about
when children peel layers
to run under the cobalt sky
JCM © 7/10/13