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Sunday, March 17, 2013

Spring Dance





In March,
winter and spring
change places.

Spring, the master
composer, squeezes runs
from the dying snow.

The whole street stretches,
shares a faint
but urgent beat.

Feeling the rhythm,
the squills create blues
for the golden horns of daffodils.

And Spring trains the robins
to warble the words,
as she calls out the dance.


This poem is for The Sunday Whirl in which poets are challenged to write a poem using these words: march, change, master, die, street, train, faint, places, stretch, calls, create, words, share.  If you'd like to see what other folks wrote, click here at The Sunday Whirl.

30 comments:

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

Good heavens! This is a symphony in the making! What music!

Laurie Kolp said...

Ooh... this is wonderful, Carol. I especially like the last stanza.

C.C. said...

And I love spring for the newness it brings!

Cara T.

Carol Steel said...

Hi Magical Mystical Teacher,

Spring makes everything dance and sing. Thanks for your comment.

Carol Steel said...

Hi Laurie,

Thanks for your comment and for visiting my blog. I appreciate both.

Carol Steel said...

Thanks C.C. I love spring in all of its manifestations too.

Ann (bunnygirl) said...

Not much difference between spring and winter where I live, but I love to think of the transformation that takes place in colder climes.

Stan Ski said...

If you get too far south, you never see spring... just dream it...

Anonymous said...

Gorgeous, Carol. We aren't there yet in Montana...but it's coming. Your words have me anticipating spring's dance. Thank you. ~Brenda

Carol Steel said...

Hello Ann,

One of the things I love about living in eastern Canada is the dramatic change in the seasons. There is no subtlety here.

Carol Steel said...

Hi Stan Ski,

There are advantages to being in a warmer and less changeable climate too...not so much snow removal equipment needed.

Carol Steel said...

Hello Brenda,

Spring is coming but not yet here for us either. There is still snow and frozen earth. The daffodil is from last spring. Thanks for visiting.

veronica said...

Yea, Spring! the yellow horns of the daffodills. I heard the first cuckoo this monring! Great wordle :)

Anonymous said...

Yes, spring makes music, then dances to her own tune. Like the way this flows off the tongue, and the music it makes,

Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/03/17/instruments-of-survival-ii/

flaubert said...

Carol, spring is a wonderful time of year and you describe her so well here. Nicely done.

Pamela

Crafty Green Poet said...

Lovely! I love the idea of spring training the robin!

Carol Steel said...

Thank you Veronica. We don't get cuckoos here.

Carol Steel said...

Thanks Elizabeth for your comment. I love the ways in which the seasons are the same every year yet remain different in how and when they arrive.

Carol Steel said...

Hello Flaubert. Thank you for visiting my blog. Spring is my favourite season.

Carol Steel said...

Thanks Juliet. I'm so happy to hear and see signs of spring arriving. I had fun with the wordle.

Old Egg said...

I like the idea of the daffodils trumpeting the blues whilst the Robins sing along.

Anonymous said...

The idea of Spring as master composer is excellent, Carol.

Carol Steel said...

Hello oldegg,

That idea tickled me as well. Spring is a blend of song and dance for me. Thanks for your comment.

Carol Steel said...

Thanks enerihot. It seemed to be a great image as spring takes everything before her and makes the pieces work together to create something new.

Jae Rose said...

Such lightness and joy..i could see and feel all the colours and warbles.. :)

Cheryl said...

Well done! I especially like "the street stretches" and "Spring is the master composer".

Carol Steel said...

Thank you Cheryl and jaerose for visiting my blog and for such kind comments.

Walt Wojtanik said...

Very nice, Carol. It is a lilting waltz from season to season. I enjoyed this.

Carol Steel said...

Thank you Walt. I think the lilting waltz from season to season will have an interruption this evening. We are getting another snow storm here. Sigh.

Anonymous said...

Oh, I do love it and the picture is perfect for the poem. Lovely.