Saturday, April 15, 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.