Poetry of spring

Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green the rhyme
a different metre for every clime
chirping birds to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, & purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dew
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whisper in each breeze
butterflies as floating apostrophes
ladybug-dotted question marks
a flourishing bloom at every stop
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended

—Terri Guillemets