Maiden Spring

Maiden Spring

Silvered rippling water’s edge,
Fowling forage; springtime sedge,
Warmer winds as winter wanes,
As snow transforms to steady rains.

The coots; what funny name have they,
In congregation as they play,
With body grey, and golden beak,
Their bond with humankind quite weak.

I raise my head to sullen skies,
As darkened clouds pour in my eyes,
Our maiden Spring with eyes aglow,
She warms each bud and flower to grow.

Peter Lowell Paulson
April 9, 2013