These first pale golden days announce the spring,
the swelling of the buds and then the song
of birds and water running from the source.
A sunrise crisp brings deer up to the source
to drink, where clustered violets frame the spring
that courses through the grass with silver song
down to the willow-shaded stream. The song
That stirs the shoots and roots lies at the source
Of all this golden frothing that is spring.
All this golden spring, song is the source.