To Spring, on Shakespeare’s Birthday
Within the boughs of winter-laden trees,
Hardened with kinetic proof against time,
From ancient earth to root through trunk to leaves
Lies life’s invisible resilient climb.
Bubbles or spears bursting with tender life,
Hard-packed or fuzzy-soft in yellow green,
Patiently adorn winter’s deadened strife
Joining conifers, on gray boughs, serene.
In their due time they fill the forest full
Bearing solar brunt, cooling underneath,
And teaching us to go from push to pull,
Through tempest pain there’s always more than grief.
Through winter storms and all the season’s rest,
We must needs give to all our very best.