A Poem for Springtime

Upon arriving at the garden

An iron gate greets me

Gray and laden with scrollwork

Heavy guardian of beauty
I push upon it to enter

It resists momentarily, then cooperates

I gaze upon
A multitude of flowers in bloom

Roses, lilies, more roses...

A path of mottled bricks

To walk upon, to follow around curves

That bend like tulip stems

Bees rise silently from petals

And ascend into the fragrant air

How I wish I could live here

Among the flowers and bees!

I’d feed on the loamy soil

And drink from the brackish pond

And sing endlessly to the blue sky above.