New Minted Spring
New minted spring on the branches before me,
Delicate petals in virginal white,
Heaven so plaintively ashen above me,
Cloaking the sun, a diminishing light.
Soft are the grasses that blow in the breezes,
Sweet is the song of the bird sitting high,
Flying anon to wherever she pleases,
Taking her tune to a new fathomed sky.
Walking in daylight, a free-gifted pleasure,
Praising the pallette of spring as I pass,
Sipping a cup without limit or measure,
Colours astounding the monotone grass.
Silent and sure as a babe with her mother,
Never a moment of gloom as I walk,
Only another delight to discover,
Voices of spring set in garrulous talk.
Moonrise in portent beyond the horizon,
Heralding night and the darkness begun,
Glinting tenacious, though blackness she flies in,
Taking the place of a floundering sun.
Strange are the shadows that waken and tarry,
Here in the hypnotic glory of spring,
Ghosts of the past I eternally carry,
Always nostalgic, they silently sing.
Free are the flowers in miracle dreaming,
Speaking of hope in an innocent voice,
Catching the light and beatifically beaming,
Bright as a chorus they stand and rejoice.
Calm is the death of the day in the gloaming,
Slate are the heavens and heavy with cloud,
Treasures of spring to enrapture my roaming,
Offered in gladness in colour so proud.
Perfectly reverent, perfectly captured,
Here in a gay diorama of spring,
Finding a new revelation and raptured,
As by a powerful heavenly king.
adamdaniel 