Green leaves on bare trees
Sprouting as if by magic.
Not there yesterday?

Rooster crows loudly;
He knows not the flower's names
(And neither do I).

The stream moves faintly
As if it enjoys the sun.
What's not to enjoy?

Lilacs are budding;
Forsythia is dying.
The parade of Spring.

The woods look witchy;
Spring shadows and fairy light;
Movement in stillness.

Dandelion puffs
Stream gently above the road.
Passing travelers.

Woods are thick with green;
Sunlight filters through the laves
And falls in shadows.

Tiny blue flowers
Sprout in clusters in the shade
Draw my eyes to them.