Spring has been extra beautiful this year
maybe it’s because winter was so extra cold and snowy
maybe it’s just because every spring my heart soars as the trees and flowers bud and bloom
daffodils have come and gone
tulips are still tuliping
lilacs are just beginning
magnolias and forsythia fade into redbuds and the white burst of Bradford Pears
oh
Springtime
the sky seems extra blue
the birds serenade with the most melodious of songs
especially this morning
in the quiet stillness
of that moment just before dawn
I heard them through my bedroom window
saw the sun filtering in
heard the dog stir
we walked
few cars
just us and a few other early dogs
thankful for the lack of wind
savoring the sunshine and blue skies
a backdrop for the renewal of Spring
it’s all rather glorious
simple joys
early on a Sunday morning
May 4, 2014
Turquoise Tangles 
Not to engage in a poetry slam, but your words reminded me of similar climes in simpler times:
NOISE, BY POOH
Oh, the butterflies are flying,
Now the winter days are dying,
And the primroses are trying
To be seen.
And the turtle-doves are cooing,
And the woods are up and doing,
For the violets are blue-ing
In the green.
Oh, the honey-bees are gumming
On their little wings, and humming
That the summer, which is coming,
Will be fun.
And the cows are almost cooing,
And the turtle-doves are mooing,
Which is why a Pooh is poohing
In the sun.
For the spring is really springing;
You can see a skylark singing,
And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
Can be heard.
And the cuckoo isn’t cooing,
But he’s cucking and he’s ooing,
And a Pooh is simply poohing
Like a bird.
I enjoyed reading the Pooh bear poem you shared here. Honored to be compared in even a small way to such fine literary company. I smiled as I read the rhyming words above and the chiming turns of phrase. Springtime twas made for poets. Having balmy return upon a gentler breeze makes our hearts soar a little higher. I am not well read or knowledgeable about poetry and poets. As silly as it sounds to admit, I didn’t know I was one until I started blogging and the words were just there. Sometimes I ramble. Sometimes I rhyme. Sometimes words just flow in short stanzas. I never know what will come pouring out. I just know it feels so good to write! Thanks for reading, commenting, and drifting back for conversation. Glad we reconnected on Word Press after meeting at My Opera.
Me, too … I pestered Jill to find out what happened to you.
I’m thankful for Jill too. She and I stayed in touch via Facebook. A LOT HAPPENED in that communication gap. A LOT. Glimpses are offered here at Word Press where I combined two blogs into one, merging My Opera and Tumblr, where everything flows chronologically.
Well, I’m glad you did … she was very discreet, even just telling that you were on FB … a place I will not go. They want to know entirely too much about me, in my not-so-damned-humble opinion. When I have the power to decide, I will be the one that decides those things.
Smiling at your adamant refusal to go to Facebook EVER. Smart Man. It’s better to find out what friends and family are doing by calling them to say hi, or knocking on their front door to ask if they can come out and play like children do. Real life is best, though I’m admittedly thankful for online community because it’s another way we can meet our people, like you and Jill.