And spring sprung, the sound of which
hummed and thrummed
the whole night and day
I heard, as if for the first time,
the praises
Of just to be
From all that breathed
or moved the air in such
a way as
I could gasp in wonder
At how its praise completed a circle
How not once
Not even for a second did
The frogs
stop their jingle
And the warblers
Bordered the light
Their twittered praise
The bookends
To the Word of the day
Which was dog bark
Child laugh
Bus belch
Woodpecker tap
Distant parkway whine
Squirrel chatter
Cardinal choo
Airplane rumble
Skritch of rake
Whough of pine pollen powder
Chartreuse
(given proper declination of the sun)
And surely heard
Like rolling thunder
By fairies maybe
(And God...of course)
All breath and wave of air and light
Praise. Proper praise.
For we are here
And what is there to that
But wonder most excellent.
And back to darkness
And the moon's watery song
And the stars' tight harmonies
And us
To jingle
with the frogs.
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