Thursday, March 9, 2017


                      The birds of morning greet the glints of dawn
                      By piping orisons into the skies,
                      As squirrels begin to scamper on the lawn,
                      And soon the frolicking of butterflies
                      Will signal that the blooms of early spring
                     Are blossoming, exultant, bright and gay,
                     Up-lifted by the orisons they sing,
                     A balm to winter’s torpor and dismay—
                     Likewise, my heart is light and I must sing
                     A sonnet that shall celebrate all this
                     Uplifting of our spirits to new heights,
                     Even to the pinnacle of bliss,
                          Exultant in this grand, ecstatic trance
                          That blithely stirs my rising soul to dance.