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Another Spring Poem
Fields
almost green
almost gray
streaked with purple stripes (henbit)
like a Monet painting.
Yellows yell from every corner,
daffodills and forsynthia
seedheads on the sweetgum.
How can anyone walk a suburban street
in April
and not believe in something
someone
greater than themselves?
A hundred birds in symphony
dandelions decorating driveway cracks
azeleas ready to burst into blazes
the purple majesty of lilac and wisteria
all that grows and gleams
all that is Spring.
poem
by
W.I. Stoneberger
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