When Earth Starts Dancing With First Fragrances of Spring...

This poem began the other day as I, like 'last year's pup' also sought the southside deck... ...delighting in first sightings of robins, and song-sparrow warbles and killdeer cries Sometimes when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of springWhen robin song romances winter’s wearied weatheringIt rouses frames filled with fond scenes of days, long left behindWith ways that will not change in spite of change’s ceaseless grind It brings to mind pictures of school girls, hopscotch, skipping ropesOf farmers whistling, with fresh bounce in steps of buoyed hopesOf mothers cooking suppers for fresh-air keened appetitesOf pussy-willow ‘kittens’ and brook-song’s restored delights Of puddles where paper boats sail, where little children ‘fish’Of pebble-pennies lobbed, kerplunk, laden with Dreamer’s wishAnd the wild rush of freedom as temperatures start to soarAnd coats are tossed and cheeks are flushed with sun-kisses once more Of last year's pup sprawled on south-facing deck for mid-day snoozeOf fantasies of feet freed from time-thieving socks and shoes Of picnic-baskets trundled to a perfect place to sitOn blankets spread a world away, as far as rules permit Of blue, blue rafters crowning girths, heady with birth, bud-rifeOf laughter, rising, falling on the carousel of lifeOf scents, woodsy and pungent, kindling an impatient urgeFor violet and forget-me-not and dandelion splurge Or, countryside at sunset, swaddled in gold-embossed scrims Where silky dust-scarves waft from furrows stoked with planting hymnsOr the certain return of frantic, plaintive killdeer's cry Or whack! as baseball bats find sweet spots and outfielders fly Or muddy boots, where pastures were not wander-ready yetOr bucket-garnished maple-trees snaring sap-pirouetteOr new-found loot, like sparkly stones, or shells where oceans roarOr pop bottles to cash in for treats from the corner store ...and willow-wand's first feathered fronds before its sighing sheenAnd prickly perches on creeks banks before stiff thatch turns greenWhere ragged cattail-paupers wait for warmer streams to wadeBut cheered by the shrill ripple of spring-peeper serenade I’m glad, when earth starts dancing with first fragrances of springI realize for all the changes life is bound to bringThe keepsakes that I treasure no modern progress can claimBecause children and nature are still very much the same © Janet Martin (a few tidbits from last year...because we're not quite there yet)