The delicate lacing of leaves being born with the dawn –
The gazing out windows in hope of a glimpse of a fawn –
The gray rolling furball of squirrels getting busy on grass
Surrounded by tulips all rising above their green mass –
Potato halves pucker as they sit and chit in the sun.
Rudebekia, asters reach for the light as squash vines run,
All straining toward the fresh air they’re all anxious to feel,
Though for this month only, outside night would all their fates seal.
Spring grasses are greenest and shine in the morning’s cool light,
Arched softly above the wild violets in purple and white.
Golden daffodils and their sweet cousins, narcissus, in bloom
Bring the sun’s own affection and perfume the entire room.
All Pagans, all Christians, agnostics and Muslims and Jews
Receive Nature’s love from the Spring, who refuses to choose.