Springtime

The scent of springtime fills the air And fragrance greets us everywhere; The grass is green, no longer brown, The snow submerged into the ground. Where just a few short weeks ago Naught but bare limbs a tree would show, New buds of green spring forth—and they Enlarge—become a green array. Where flow’rs were planted, soil erupts To make room for the buttercups, Hyacinths, violets, daffodils; The ground with flow’rs our Father fills. The skies have shed their wint’ry gray And azure...