Poem: Spring

When gentle breezes blow arctic cold, like death, away -- and keep the desert heat at bay. Green flora leaps to life, blooming anew once more. The old bear stretches from slumber again; the newborn rabbits first leave their den. Behind rocks and beneath trees, young lovers go; and do what they did under December mistletoe. The sweet song of birds push all cares away, as children catch sight of a young deer at play. Light showers of rain water ruby red flowers, and the return of the sun reveals a new rainbow of colors. What place, what time, what wonder is this? Why, 'tis nothing more than Spring.

11/25/96