My mom was going to a synagogue sisterhood meeting and called me, asking if I'd written any poems about Spring. I told her I didn't have any, so she asked me if I'd write one that she could read at the meeting, so I wrote a poem about Spring. Here it is:
Still the morning soon the sun,
Atop the sky of heaven’s dome,
The aphids weaving ‘tween the grass,
Looming blades unsheathed from loam.
Calid cantatas buzzing, sing,
Cicadas midst their oaken shrouds,
As Blackbirds glide like flotsam on,
The unseen rivers ‘neath the clouds.
Heralds soft, the rains of March,
The hushed voice of Persephone,
Polaris bound from Crux they sail,
Messina eagles o’er the sea.
So come what will: the shining hours,
The noonday storm the midnight pall,
The sun’s tide waxing, glory!
Blazing glorious upon us all.