A whisper in the breeze, a dance of golden light,
Informed me that the season past
Would soon embrace the morning's sight.
I stood within a budding grove,
Among the petals and the leaves,
Delighted, as a butterfly shared with me
The tales of blooming eaves.
Green merged into vibrant green,
A lark rose from her meadow's nest,
The shimmer of the brook was seen,
And I felt life's renewed zest.
Already the wooden gates of the south
Swing wide: bees, blossoms, rains,
Stir their harmonies with the mouth
Of nature's warm refrains.