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Array ( [sid] => 490 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => My Spring Poem [time] => 2002-07-15 21:59:03 [hometext] => Some famous poet from a good couple centuries back once said that "Every good poet should have a spring poem." I don't know just who that was, but i liked the notion, so i went home and wrote this. If you do know who said that, then please, let me in on the secret. It's about spring up in Anchorage, Alaska, where i lived from '90-'94. I hope you enjoy it. [bodytext] =>

Upon the sight of the first of the Canada geese,
along with the first six hour days
and positive temperatures,
and the layer of snow that covered the planet
turning into a layer of ice,
everyone knew.
It must be April.
Spring is here.
As slowly that layer of ice freed the glorious
super playground from its frosty deathgrip,
and the roads,
which were once thought to be nothing more
than a chimerical idealism, come out of hiding,
and the ungodly mosquitoes can be seen dancing in the sunset
at Ten o’ clock P.M.,
everyone knew.
It must be May.
Spring is here.
As the salmon began the struggle for the right to die off first,
and the bears can be seen fishing in the streams
every morning at sunrise, at Two A.M.,
and the prices of jewelry made entirely out of moose defecation rise
because giant deer poo is out of season,
and the citizens complain about the scorching sixty-degree weather,
everyone knew.
It must be June.
Spring is here.
And here on out, it’s all downhill. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 166 [topic] => 27 [informant] => Butterat_Zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry )

My Spring Poem

Contributed by Butterat_Zool on Monday, 15th July 2002 @ 09:59:03 PM in AEST
Topic: NaturePoetry

Upon the sight of the first of the Canada geese,
along with the first six hour days
and positive temperatures,
and the layer of snow that covered the planet
turning into a layer of ice,
everyone knew.
It must be April.
Spring is here.
As slowly that layer of ice freed the glorious
super playground from its frosty deathgrip,
and the roads,
which were once thought to be nothing more
than a chimerical idealism, come out of hiding,
and the ungodly mosquitoes can be seen dancing in the sunset
at Ten o’ clock P.M.,
everyone knew.
It must be May.
Spring is here.
As the salmon began the struggle for the right to die off first,
and the bears can be seen fishing in the streams
every morning at sunrise, at Two A.M.,
and the prices of jewelry made entirely out of moose defecation rise
because giant deer poo is out of season,
and the citizens complain about the scorching sixty-degree weather,
everyone knew.
It must be June.
Spring is here.
And here on out, it’s all downhill.

Copyright Â© Butterat_Zool ... [ 2002-07-15 21:59:03]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: My Spring Poem (User Rating: 1 )
by Chrissie on Monday, 15th July 2002 @ 10:09:22 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This has stuck in my mind since I read it on the old site and still holds the same appeal...a beautiful and vivid piece..
Chrissie

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