Don’t tell Spring a secret if you wish to keep it so.

Even her buried treasure cannot help but grow.

 

After winter’s hush and hiss, she’s destined to be

A little of a tattletale and share in what she please.  

 

Fate dictates you cannot begrudge of her fun.

For the charms of her atonement, one always succumbs.

 

She holds court in the garden.

She crests in the rain.

 

The bees gossip with her flowers.

The sun calls on her most days.

 

She loves to flirt and tease him as she does us all.

Yet one would suffer her abuse yearlong for a visit stalled.

 

Only fools would chain a spirit. Thereby we keep her free.

Nonetheless, the lady tarries in our fantasies.

11 comments

  1. Is it possible to crave a season? Somehow that is how I feel when I read this poem. I crave the fragrance of spring rain and hyacinths. The gentle climate is the best of the year.

    Liked by 1 person

Share Your Thoughts. . .

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s