Bursting Spring

Spring, though it does not always use thunderstorms to say hello,
Came like a bursting thunderstorm upon the world this year.
For one day the air was still sullen with the promise or threat of snow,
And the next spring was upon the scene, and made its will sky-clear.

There shall be no more, Spring declared, of this bare and soggy brown,
Glaring at the patches of grass dimmed and dunned by Winter's passing feet.
So Spring tore a living emerald from the corner of its crown,
And cast it upon the grass blades, which turned emerald in a fleet.

There shall be no more, Spring declared, of the pale trees' sad defiance,
And reached up and ran its hands quite softly across the birthing buds.
The wave of bursting blossom shocked the trees' screams into silence,
And called later leaves and flowers forth to follow in their floods.

There shall be no more, Spring declared, of this irritating sky,
And it brushed away the clouds as easily as a crow might flap its wing.
Triumphantly it seated gold and blue on their thrones again on high,
And taught the moon to shine again, and taught the sun to sing.

For Spring has come upon the world this year like a thunderstorm,
Though more gently will it blend into summer when it departs.
But for now the air with spring's thunder is rich and is warm,
And the blossoms and birds, the leaves and sun, are singing out their hearts.