Spring is
Spring is a bold thing, bramble-hooked,
barging into quiet corners,
sky-shooting, flouncing fronds.
Spring is noisy as whizzbangs,
scudding bees in the mimosa,
woodpecker tattoos.
Spring is joyously juvenile, striped,
flecked and dappled with sun,
pied and purple, a riot of life,
running in rivers of green
and flower-gaudy, flying with damsels
in the bowed arc of the rain.
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Jane Dougherty Writes 
“woodpecker tattoos” makes me happy.😁
They’re funny birds altogether 🙂
It’s true! Great poem ❤️
Thank you xxx
“joyously juvenile”–I love that. It is. (K)
A time to let rip.
Joyously captured. I love all the sound and movement here. Beautiful!
Thank you 🙂
You’re welcome! 😊
Beautiful imagery, I especially liked imagining this :”woodpecker tattoos.”
Woodpeckers make their presence known. They’re either drumming on tree trunks of screaming hysterically. Great fun watching them.
I loved the poetry dear Jane. I do love the days of Spring.
So do I. Spring is the time of year when I look out for changes and welcome them. Autumn, I note them with a kind of dread.
Here in Michigan dear Jane. Summer is holding on.
It is here too, but it can’t be long now…
Last year. Past two Winters. Easy. Last year. One snow fall. Michigan is feeling the hurt of pollution.