Hope Springs

The Ides of March
Foretell the flowers,
The warming soil and lightening hours.

Busy birds chatter
With all their spring plans.
Building nests, sitting high,
Claiming pockets of land.

Green shoots in the hedgerows,
Fresh growth underfoot.
The year's first bee, a blossom tree,
The book of winter firmly shut.

Oh! To be a wanderer
And see this show for free.
Blackbird's shrill, Woodpecker's drill,
Springs hope inside of me.