The Spring Thing

February 23, 2011
The birds’ vivid calls
Make connect-the-dots of sound
Across sky’s blue tarp
And when you branch each call to another
And loop conversation alike
It forms
When you part the walls of brick fortresses
And the sun, waiting on siege, captures your eyes
Leaving you a newborn lamb on tender legs
To toddle and spin in flowing hues of dresses
And fall to the straightening grass,
who reforms posture in this
The mud will squish up through painted toes
And laughs will be conversation
And the sun will paint pink circles
Onto winter-white cheeks yet
hidden away in
storage vaults
Waiting for
This something we have come to call spring, but such a word is
not nearly enough to describe such a thing
So in these purposes, it should remain
Something, not anything
But... the something
Of which we are all
so familiar

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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

TheSweetNerd said...
Mar. 11, 2011 at 3:06 pm
Awesome poem, reminds me of true old school poetry. Its so beautiful and so detailed, very vivid. I love it.
fiberopticfingers said...
Mar. 10, 2011 at 10:05 pm
Where are the cliches? Where is the fluff? And where are the comments? Amazing.  The grass "who reforms posture!"  "The sun, waiting on siege." I don't think I've ever heard these kinds of things. It's refreshing.  "The Spring Thing" is real poetry.
crazyisperfect. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Mar. 10, 2011 at 11:25 pm

You have colored my day with yellow highlighter.


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