Spring in Syracuse (Sonnet)

For five months of each year, we’re frozen solid,
With not a blade of grass to call our own.
At winter’s end the months come muddy, squalid,
And still the trees look like they’re dead, dry bone.
But this! True Spring’s convergence with the sun’s love
Creates the clearest colors anywhere –
The sharpest whites and deepest blues shine above,
While radiant leaves spread green in crystal air.
Hard rains have made the peonies bow down,
As if to make obeisance to new sun,
Their heavy blushy heads to near the ground
While waves of purple iris sway as one.
A day like this is a mosaic of jewels
That makes those who complain of Winters fools.

About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
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4 Responses to Spring in Syracuse (Sonnet)

  1. Lois Barrett Luke says:

    Reminds me of upstate NY. Love NY and love this piece.

  2. InfiniteZip says:

    Went to school outside of Syracuse NY…lots of cold…..brrrr.😊

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