Morning In The Ides Of A Spring Month Poem by Nero CaroZiv

It was morning in the Ides of a spring month: pure and clear
A small rivulet by tall reeds, delighting in its late showers and vigor strength
It ran along pebbles and sand, and yet the voice
Of distilled waters which last winter had generously bestowed
Was softened down into a vernal tone of the Passover commotion
Days off school, red tulips on hills and the spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and freedom, and wishes, were for all living things around
The scent of citrus groves went circling, like a multitude of waves of the sea
The budding flowers and groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of upcoming Summer; as if their various multitude hues
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire blessing contentment hanged in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree late to bloom bud
Even when still late and leafless, or unopened, showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful off school day
Were native to the to strengthening Spring
Up the whispering brook I roamed in the confusion of my mind
Such a precious memory Alive to all things and forgetting all
And the spirit of Spring and Passover were like encircled walls




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