Springtime Riddle
The noon is wrought
With festive thought,
The pollens tickle my nose;
I may sneeze,
Cough and wheeze,
Can’t keep a pining pose.
The barren trees
Are sprouting leaves,
Each bird its fond refrain;
Like you they heave
Springtime and weave
Thoughts of a sweeter strain.
The daily round
Invades the ground,
But oh, a ground so green!
Sun’s vagrant hours
Are churning flowers
Which blossom to be seen
By dragonflies
And butterflies
Hornets, beetles, drones,
Flitting, fluttering,
Buzzing, muttering
Myriad monotones.
Seeking, nuzzling,
Peeking, guzzling
Juices sweet and bitter,
The sunbird poses,
And gladly shows his
Blue-black back’s plumes glitter.
How nature lends
Powers to ends
Which seethe inside this paean,
Along with those,
Which nourish the rose,
They reel unheard, unseen.
Toddle, twiddle,
Guess this riddle
And let me think up more
While fertile soil’s
Organic toil
Revives the rot and the sore.
