SpringSpring fetches another life
to the grassy meadow. The sun
sends its warmth to free the snow
from its sterile kingdom
so the waters flow. The waters
thaw and flow. And the night
lays down its frost—its hard,
hoary discipline. It can seem
unkind. It can seem unkind
to know: a red-winged blackbird
has landed in the blue oak.
At the edge of the green meadow
a red-winged blackbird finds
a branch offered by the blue oak.
rdking