Spring
I never liked spring -
Not that I enjoy holding exotic views,
Or am a malcontent like the fabled Scrooge -
My reserve is not a negative thing.
The blossoming pear and yellow buttercup
Are dear to me as all who love the season -
I like the impressionist way the trees green up -
If not for this, sorry would be my reason.
The fact is on this beleagured globe -
March - once here - summer looms ahead.
Spring's become a passing flash on the road
And summer a thing to dread.-
Return the spring that begins in March and through May runs wild -
Restore those bright June days and summers mild!
