Springtime, when trees are kaleidoscopes of hope,
An oil canvas with endless shades of green
Each day the picture changes but the frame stays the same
A hopeful bud turns many leaves into one big tree,
Unplug, discover the forest.
Springtime, when the earth is soft and smells like rain.
Twenty drops of color blooming on the forest floor
Spring beauties, hepatica, bloodroots,
Wildflowers are tiny magicians of ephemeral joy
Unplug, explore the driftless lore.
Springtime, when the mighty Mississippi is most alive
Teeming with fish and full of bird song,
There's no place I'd rather go
Than down to a river I know.