False Spring
No
spring is false when warm, sweet sunlight falls
Upon
the weathered field and woods and wallsAnd frogs shake off the mud and much to sing
While lizards leap and little bees take wing
No
spring is false when gentle roses bloom
And
windows are opened on airless roomsAfter the time of ice, soft, gentle air
Comforts the cold world like a whispered prayer
This
January thaw cannot be wrong;
It
sings for us a little of spring’s song
