Spring is In
Some say it's Spring outside;
But man is foolish
Spring is not outside;
Spring is in.
In the flower, radiance blooms
And in the soylent greening
Poppy pollen and bows and barrels
Of waxed light.
In the grasses many foreign
Creatures creep, their unheard footfall
On beards of the greenly green
Give in a silent way
Sound to Spring.
In the air that's breathed
Is the freshness of glade--
The songs and runes
Of a thousand ages repeated
With secret plaint--
Assimilated in our cells.
There Spring becomes ours. In.
Spring gives itself—in.
In the azure sky
Swarming swallows veer and turn,
Intermingling the innumerable
Patterns of the winds,
Giving movement to Spring's
Change of cloud for patch of blue.
So Spring is in. Man is out.
Tho we may touch the core of
Every known atom
We still cannot know
The spring of Spring.
So man says that
It's Spring outside.
Foolish man.
Spring is in.
(In this one child I found...Spring.)