it is spring
toss me up into the trees with the flowers oh wind,
for i do not wish to go to school
such a wild wind blowing, tossing my hair
i am grateful for colors
grateful for spirals
and birdsong so wild, free, and wonderful
that i can only but dance drunkenly teetering
ready to fall off any slope
only to go clambering back up another
on unsteady feet slippery with fresh mud
smells of sprouts suckling deep into earth
popping with exuberant life of a fresh wild bloodred spring
sing me a song of caterpillar turned butterfly
testing new wings it never knew it could have
