Magic Spring

Death's not the victor, after all;

          the equinox comes as a scold; 

Life cracks the ground in shades of green,

          throws off the lethargy of cold,

And wakesand grows from fertile seeds,

          aroused from dormant winter's night

When dark was tantamount to death

          and hope lay idle, out of sight.

Life soon denies the lure of sleep

          and green begins ascending sky

When new old-earth bursts wide with shoots

          that stream from life that would not die—

Life that's enticed by radiant light

          that incites instincts deep within,

That heats, defeats and melts the freeze

          and warms and speeds the tacking wind

Which soon dries-up the filthy snow

          revealing, then, harsh winter's sins

Committed in those desperate nights,

          for which springmust, now, make amends.

Up out of soil rise the dead,

          springing back to life in spring,

As newborn bees and migrant birds

          contest that wind to dart and sing

And man attends his stewardship

          of all the magic spring will bring.

A Hill resident, the author believes that the appreciation of art should not be influenced by the vagaries or prejudices of biography.


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