Spring.
The
equinox knocks open winter’s bound eyes,
spring’s
greening determined to wake you,
sneak
up on the watchers of the skies,
without
whom (of course) the world would not turn.
Surprisingly,
days lengthen, April makes
progress
despite science and prayers, its weight on the globe
switching
on lights, brightening bulbs.
Gawkishly
gaudy, often too early
tulips
shoot first then ask for the sun,
wan
but inclined to make dizzier climbs.
They
give in, decide to make the best of it.
No
going back; you’d think they’d know by now
average
temps. are just a guide but they return,
year
after year, time after time.
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