Oh spring, I pray you will endure
Another ode to your allure;
Still shadows harbor ice and snow,
But loyalists to winter show
Their colors when the heat is on,
Confessing to the pressing dawn;
Thus life emerges from its slumber;
Leaves and feathers without number
Sing in union to proclaim
Reminders of the season’s name;
Cue fanfare in the key of green,
A symphony not heard but seen,
With every turn upon the trail
An air in the chromatic scale.
Addicts fail to recapture
Virgin highs, sweet lies of rapture;
Nature, though, fulfills her every
Promise of a waking reverie;
Wedded to the spring, I swoon,
A honeybee on honeymoon;
Alas, true love, as few do learn,
Is tantamount to true concern;
As creeping deserts outward move,
Their sands of time do drily prove
Green optimism premature;
Oh spring, I pray you will endure.
Tom was lucky enough to be born in Oregon. Some of his earliest memories are of frolicking on Cannon Beach, Short Sands and a litany of local littoral locations.
