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