The Birth Of Spring Poem by james watkin
The Birth Of Spring
Spring, through a frigid zeal, is heard
Its manifold wombs inside.
Convulsions hustle, one to the other.
And grades of impatience outside.
Murmurs like trickles, should you hear
"That's the snows! ", with giggles shout.
Mutters like thawings, accompanying
"That's our snowman! ", do laugh out.
Wednesday, June 19, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: birth,spring
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6/2/2024 12:07:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
