Spring Sonnet
I find that Spring is like an actress, bold,
Who enters Nature's stage on perfect cue,
For weary watchers of the winter's cold
Are tired of black and white and want a hue
Of vibrant leafy green or brilliant red;
They long for yellow daffodils which say
That life and growth and beauty are not dead,
But only for a season had to stay
Beneath the frozen belt of winter's girth.
So out Spring struts, her lines are strong and clear—
Her statement in the smell of soft, damp earth
Compels and captivates for those who hear.
It is impossible to doubt and mope,
When Spring performs, then hearts are full of hope.
I find that Spring is like an actress, bold,
Who enters Nature's stage on perfect cue,
For weary watchers of the winter's cold
Are tired of black and white and want a hue
Of vibrant leafy green or brilliant red;
They long for yellow daffodils which say
That life and growth and beauty are not dead,
But only for a season had to stay
Beneath the frozen belt of winter's girth.
So out Spring struts, her lines are strong and clear—
Her statement in the smell of soft, damp earth
Compels and captivates for those who hear.
It is impossible to doubt and mope,
When Spring performs, then hearts are full of hope.