A Spring Poem
You say you got a contest
for a spring poem,
right now it just ain’t in me
to write any piece.
For the sake of art
I’ll give it a go
let me tell you folks
about spring and what I know:
It comes after winter
(Lord am I glad!)
I’ve noticed some green
where there was only brown,
lovely buttercups sprang up
it seemed like over night!
The sun is more frequently seen
sparring with rain clouds
as the temperature rises
grass will grow, lawnmowers will be exhumed
thwarting all chances of
sitting outside listening to the gentle sounds of nature.
Still, birds will sing their songs while dinning on insects
courting, mating and building nests
while Mr. Smith douses his lawn with chem-green
and Mrs. Doe sprays poisons for those awful bugs in her garden;
polluting the air and drinking water, a small price to pay aesthetically speaking
to keep up with the proverbial Jones.
As the low and high atmospheric pressures clash
tornadic activity arrives, sirens sound.
Sometimes I wonder, with the hole in the ozone
the total lack of governmental environmental policy, the polar icecap melting,
chemicals we use almost without thinking, why there are so few
fireflies, June bugs, humming birds that were so common when I was a kid.
Spring, may there always be another!
© Margaret C. Rigsby, all right reserved.
Used by permission.
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