Opera of Spring

Hearing that roar in the air that promises escape,

No matter the season you think of Summer.

Looking up that metal bird traces every thought of freedom through the sky

It’s echoed in the branches above,

As a cool breeze riles them up into a raucous symphony,

Every leaf a tambourine of dappled green light

Not just alive but animated.

*

The grass is still damp, perspiring and fragrant

It seeps into your socks

But that cool kiss is welcome,

As you observe this natural opera,

Every shade of green blends into the fabric of your sight.

*

The chirps of earth-bound birds

Carry on their conversations

Entrancing your ear for its attention.

Absent-mindedly you stroke

The fronds of dandelion fluff,

The tickle on your fingertips

promising a wish,

Wondering at how soft and delicate

A common weed could be.

*

When you do finally rise up

To salute blinding azure

Out from under the canopy,

You wonder at its endlessness that envelopes.

As you brush off errant strands of hay that beg you to remain,

It is a contrast to the firm, faint heat of pavement.

*

You meander back through silent streets,

Hit by the scent of white blossoms you couldn’t name

so solidly sweet it’s as if the long, smooth tongue of the bee

is your own making union with that vestal bloom.

Or with the royally robed wisteria that wafts above,

Climbing hidden walls.

Never divulging secrets or

what whispers might reach them,

They simply nod

And fall behind the drum of your feet

Keeping pace

With the distant ringing

Of children’s laughter,

Echoing a simpler time.