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.
Spring splashes us with song
from source the season long—
these fledglings all belong on the wing.
spring song ripples
from source and birdthroat
caught in a kingcup
Because I’m procrastinating (again) I’m going to see how many different poems and poetry forms I can write fitting in the words: spring, song and source. Starting with a cherita. I haven’t written one in ages. Join me if you like.
Spring trills in rills
bird throats pour liquid song
from its source beyond the clouds
running water splashes
beneath the singing sky.