Spring Morning
Spring’s symphony in joyful concert plays
And draws my softly wak’ning eye to gaze
Upon a patch of leafy limbs and sky
And then some cheerful finches by and by.
The morning lifts her blushing face to praise
The rising sun’s first slanting, burnished rays,
Which dart and bend through branch and leaf and pane
And creep until my bedspread they attain.
The dust motes revel at the reveille
‘Mid light-limned shafts of soundless ecstasy,
Outlandish shades cavort beside the door,
And sunshine tilts at windmills on the floor.
The wall becomes my magic lantern screen
With locomotives puffing through the scene.
The scowling station agent marks the time
And drolly bids me rise——by pantomime.
by Matthew Hanna
(c) 2025 Matthew W. Hanna. All rights reserved.
Author’s Note: This is the 5th revision of a poem begun more than 25 years ago. It has evolved over the years through a series of revisions from a two-line couplet to its present form. This is the latest and greatest!