Fresh but naïve – that is the way of Spring.
Audacious and far reaching,
Readying to
Catapult into beauty.

With the first sips of fire,
To blossom is an addiction.

The rose, the bluebell,
The dandelion roars;
The grass leaps into quickening
And throws the insects into dance.

Life moves it’s eyes up and
Is besieged by the gold.

Iris wide, pupil shaking;
Challenging the patriarchal sun
– Spring cries out,

A vision to behold.