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There Are No Words
A Poem for Spring
As Spring sneaks in with warmer air
I search my closet for something lighter to wear
The crocuses peaking from the front yard bed
Are letting me know they soon must be fed
The last of Winter is but a trace of snow
Hidden in the shade where the plow cannot go
The popping buds on the trees can be seen
So slowly the grey begins to turn green
The creek’s like a river from the melting snow
Rushing to places where soon I will row
As I sit in my chair on the porch I can see
Nature creating a picture for me
Life reawaking from a cold Winter’s sleep
Birds are returning with chirps and with peeps
Bugs all around are beginning to crawl
As if Nature itself has put out the call
I grab for my journal to describe these great wonders
My pen floats around it stumbles and blunders
How can I recall what I’ve seen and I’ve heard
Just then I realize there are no words.
— WOLRAD
(A poem from the Wolrad collection #399)
