Rhapsody In Yellow

Something is happening.

Slowly it’s happening.

Should we take a peek?

I think it is something sweet.

Ah, Spring is back,
waltzing through the garden
in her yellow gown ---

dripping small puddles of the sweet hue
scattered on the ground.

Singing as she sways,
dancing with the breezes,
Calling to the child in each of
us as she teases.

Head thrown back, sunshine tresses flung,
Music of the spheres is being sung.

Happily decorating her annual gala
in masses of forsythian hue.
Spring, Dr. William Forsyth would be proud of you.

Protect from your caprice
and your fickle freezes,
billows of the old-fashioned
- its soft relaxed form filled with small bits of cheer,

and one clump of newer variety -

stiff branches,

larger, darker, more golden,
goblet-blooms.

Do allow them to shine unscathed this year;
For your party ends much too soon.

Accenting with Goldfinches she flings toward the sky;
Spring scores the most abstract of all arts.

Using wee birds soaring in undulating lines
to sing the high notes sweet –
in high, barely audible tweets,

Blythe and blue spirits rise with each crescendo.

Heavenly scenes, fragrances and sound,
Spring’s decor replaces Winter’s grays and brown.

Gaiety is riot as she moves in terpsichorean manner

Trailing butter-pats of dandelions everywhere she goes.

This is her prelude to May and to May’s rose.

Refreshments are served!

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