Of new flowers in Spring,
Bright reds, pinks, blues.
But these are just grace notes;
The fundamental melody
Is in the key of green.
After autumn’s golden hymn
Black winter can be borne
Only with bells and carols.
But, in March first one,
Then thousands, millions
Of buds, sprouts, leaves
Transpose the tune.
That’s when we really know
That Spring is here,
That life had never gone
But just lay hidden,
Waiting to be warm,
Waiting to perform
The symphony of green again.
©2004 John I. Blair
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