Sonnet 3 (To Spring)

No artful words could full express my love
For Nature’s glorious beauty in the spring;
The fresh anticipation in the air
Of croaker’s calls and warblers on the wing.

Forsythias festooned in finches’ gold,
The first to feast on finest vernal days,
While bulbous crocus’ bursting to be born
Dance “avatar in amethyst” displays.

Aromas sweet on hyacinth bouquets
Announce approaching Easter’s pastel scenes,
Enticing adolescent hearts with hopes
Of summer’s warmth and ceasing school routines.

Oh, one could string together words for hours,
But spring has come, I’d rather smell the flowers.

A Tree Blossoming Outside Our Front Door

 

This is a sonnet I wrote back in 2006. But its illustration of my love for Spring remains appropriate.

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