Spring, this year
Is like a bashful child.
Backward and quiet
Hiding behind tree and bush.
Letting Winter bully
Waiting to slip out
Waiting till nature calls
Olly olly oxenfree.
Yet Spring is here
I heard a whisper.
A quiet chuckle
Mocking this last snow.
There, see the daffodil
Hiding neath that ragged bush.
See magnolia buds swell
Proud to wait
Impatient still.
Spring is like a bashful child
Getting dressed for Easter.
Grinning bright as it waits
Ready to walk out
Cheeks burning but proud
Of all the elegant finery.
