Spring
This is spring – the wooing
of sunlight and soil.
Its warm breezes
coax crocuses and squills,
unwrap pungent earth, wake up
the bees.
Now winter has left us, gone
the snow,
shards of ice,
its relentless
gales.
Winter teaches us to love
the innumerable greens,
the fertility of melt,
and the return of the robins,
as they stamp,
heads canted
listen for worms.
This is the revision of a poem, using a turn at the line "Winter teaches us to love." What do you think? Is it better than the version from yesterday, or worse? I will continue to look at it, to see where I can improve the writing.
