Spring

Spring or summer, who can tell, today was 24 degrees,
tomorrow more the same. The sunshine and a gentle breeze
suited our riverbank team meeting. We drove
from school to one, a stream where kids can rove
and walked along and tested water too.
Then convoyed off again to one more, wider river - new
to me. A trip with kids next week should be a blast
so long as sunshine isn't then a memory in the past.

The other night I spent 2 hours, listening to folks
reading poems they had written, serious and jokes.
A guest, a school boy, shared his growing repetoire
and spoke about his winning poems, how he had come so far.
I felt inspired to write that night, composing, driving home
but all the lovely metaphors were drowned in bathtime foam
and I am tired out at night although I'd love to write...
so I just type this doggerel and know it's really trite.

So here's a sonnet in iambic tetrameter that I wrote last spring:

SPRING
The sight of her is like the pause

between a concert and applause,

the silence, loud and awed, each sense

absorbing beauty too intense.
She's flush with promise as she peeps

through petal lashes. Then she steeps

herself in floral perfume while

she tries on her seductive smile.
But she's capricious in her moods;

aggressive past-life attitudes

incite a storm and she rebels

against her youthful budding swells.
A part-ferocious, sweet young thing,

she's that precocious vamp called Spring.


GREAT MINDS DISCUSS IDEAS
AVERAGE MINDS DISCUSS EVENTS
SMALL MINDS DISCUSS PEOPLE