The first straining buds of springtime nature
Plough hard, like builders, through the winter bark.
Like vestibules of life bursting from the myrrh.
Spring, carried soft on winters death remarks,
with all the fervour of a priest before altar,
‘Such beauty’ as grass bursts through snow in the park.
And every seed, waking without falter
Rise from their cold graves and dance a winged dance
On winters dying breath, warmed in springs vault.
And teenagers, feeling the tang of warmth glance
Outside, probing to see if its warm enough
To emerge into the vast expanse-
-Of spring. New life yet to learn of the corrupt
ways of the world gasps in horror and rebuff.
—It’s finally feeling like spring here, so in honour of that I’ve decided to write a Terza Rima all about it (my first Terza Rima). Like my work of late it ended up falling into darkness, but I guess that’s not necessarily a bad thing! Thank you so much for reading!