Spring is Almost Here

Spring in the Meadow
By Elece Hollis

The treetops show a palest green.

The iris fronds point straight and clean.

The daffodils nod in between

The earth and sky.

The air above is slate-grey blue;

It shines with very different hue

Than golden warm when robins flew

South in the fall.

The grass appears about to burst

Forth from the ground whose long cold thirst

Is sated now with the fresh first

Swells of spring rain.

Under the mat of last year’s grass

Bright flowers struggle up to pass

Through to the sun’s warm rays at last

From winter’s night.

The geese fly honking overhead,

As Spring arises from his bed;

He shakes himself, comes to be fed

On bread of light.

 Spring has not arrived, but come,

Like Papa from a journey home,

Calls from the soil, calls from the loam

“I’m almost there!”

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