Another Spring

Another Spring - Kenneth Rexroth

The seasons revolve and the years change With no assistance or supervision. The moon, without taking thought, Moves in its cycle, full, crescent, and full. The white moon enters the heart of the river; The air is drugged with azalea blossoms; Deep in the night a pine cone falls; Our campfire dies out in the empty mountains. The sharp stars flicker in the tremulous branches; The lake is black, bottomless in the crystalline night; High in the sky the Northern Crown Is cut in half by the dim summit of a snow peak. O heart, heart, so singularly Intransigent and corruptible, Here we lie entranced by the starlit water, And moments that should each last forever Slide unconsciously by us like water.

Things Change

 

Things Change - Robert Hayden

Small song,
two beat:
the robin on the lawn
hops from sun
into shadow, shadow
into sun.

Spring Song

 

Spring Song - Edith Wharton

"O primavera! Gioventit dell' anno."

The first warm buds that break their covers,
  The first young twigs that burst in green,
The first blade that the sun discovers,
  Starting the loosened earth between.

The pale soft sky, so clear and tender,
  With little clouds that break and fly;
The crocus, earliest pretender
  To the low breezes passing by;

The chirp and twitter of brown builders,
  A couple in a tree, at least;
The watchful wisdom of the elders
  For callow younglings in the nest;

The flush of branches with fair blossoms,
  The deepening of the faint green boughs,
As leaf by leaf the crown grows fuller
  That binds the young Spring's rosy brows;

New promise every day of sweetness,
  The next bright dawn is sure to bring;
Slow breaking into green completeness,
  Fresh rapture of the early Spring!

Vernal Equinox

 'I rejoice in the spring, as though no spring ever had been.'

Happy Spring Equinox!

Vernal Sentiment - Theodore Roethke

Though the crocuses poke up their heads in the usual places,
The frog scum appear on the pond with the same froth of green,
And boys moon at girls with last year’s fatuous faces,
I never am bored, however familiar the scene.

When from under the barn the cat brings a similar litter,—
Two yellow and black, and one that looks in between,—
Though it all happened before, I cannot grow bitter:
I rejoice in the spring, as though no spring ever had been.

March

'Blue sky prevailing...'

Written in  March - William Wordsworth

The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!

In Praise of Spring

 

It's that time of year again...Spring is finally beginning to appear! :)

 

 

In Praise of Spring - Linda Gregg

 

The day is taken by each thing and grows complete.

I go out and come in and go out again,

confused by a beauty that knows nothing of delay,

rushing like fire. All things move faster

than time and make a stillness thereby. My mind

leans back and smiles, having nothing to say.

Even at night I go out with a light and look

at the growing. I kneel and look at one thing

at a time. A white spider on a peony bud.

I have nothing to give, and make a poor servant,

but I can praise the spring. Praise this wildness

that does not heed the hour. The doe that does not

stop at dark but continues to grow all night long.

The beauty in every degree of flourishing. Violets

lift to the rain and the brook gets louder than ever.

The old German farmer is asleep and the flowers go on

opening. There are stars. Mint grows high. Leaves

bend in the sunlight as the rain continues to fall.

 

Haiku Trio Pop

I recently discovered Jack Kerouac's Book of Haikus and what delights lie therein. Here are a few 'pops' - as he chose to call them:


Dawn - the first 
robins singing
To the new moon

***

In the lovely sun
reading lovely
Haikus - Spring

***

The Spring moon - 
How many miles away
Those orange blossoms! 

-Jack Kerouac

Green Shoot

Spring is the poet's season!




Ted Kooser, from 'Winter Morning Walks':



The sky a pale yellow this morning,
like the skin of an onion,
and here at the center,
under layer upon layer of brooding
and ferment, a poet, 
and cupped in his hands, the green shoot
of one word.