Spring Sun Sprung

Spring sun, you sound of blackbirds’

piercing arias (declarations of sky-dancing love),

rustle of lancet leaves uprightly translucent

in harmony with color-spun clattering chimes,

noble bees’ never-stinting rumble-hum,

grass growing

 

Spring sun, you smell of ripe-bursting blossoms, moist earth

under last year’s dried debris:

newness

 

Spring sun, your touch is returner’s embrace

(peace), a long daydream-dozy centered in

riot of nature’s joy,

uncurling of winter soul-muscle tension,

needless of hurry or self. You give the Now,

glowing

 

Inspired by (my interpretation of) today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: write a poem using sensory detail (at least 3 senses). Mostly I just wanted to sit outside, so my thoughts went in an obvious direction.