Spring Is Blooming
The birds are singing merrily.
The sun is burning off the fog.
Somewhere nearby, I hear a frog,
Oh wait, I think that might be me.
Sometimes it’s pretty hard to tell;
I’m guessing spring has now arrived.
The senses just feel less alive
With hampered hearing, stifled smell.
I know the telltale sign so well,
So I will not believe those lies.
For I can look with my own eyes:
The redbuds have begun to swell.
So I will suffer spring’s embrace.
A mixed bag, for I love these trees
Which coincide with snot-filled sneeze,
For there is beauty in this place.
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(form: Italian Quatrain)
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