This is my spring post.

I wrote a post about Spring. Turns out, it's actually a poem.


Sometimes I wonder why the world has quit.

What has she seen to beg so long a mourning?

And does she know the effect of her hiding?

When growth will cease so will healing.

So in her sleep she must not have seen.

But I see.

When cold is familiar it gets in your heart.

And gray stains your eyes.

And I might start to think

That the world is mourning me,

If I don't look and feel

Finally, 

Finally Spring.