And lo, life bursts forth from lingering naught
escaping the winter’s long draining draught.
For blight and white can not for long withhold
the force that slips from the creative fold.
From both the thin places and dry places
it seeps with yellowy smiling faces
shaking off the drips of vernal slumber
to replicate without heed to number
and sow the seed, thrusts of generations,
the oft coughing cause from seminations.
It cannot be denied its inspiring
the fruit and figs of our youth’s deriving.
Spring forth and shout in utter glee
for winter has lost another fight with thee.