Brooks bubble bright

Down the boulevard 
a stranger was walking. 
Birds were singing 
their April tunes. 
With a case in hands 
he roamed, not talking. 
The black briefcase
was his respected friend...

Walking down the street, 
breathing the air, 
he was defying absolutely all.
His unhappy face betrayed 
despair. 
Spring was scorned by him-
was obvious to all.

He thinks that Spring is worthless
and a waste. 
The birds’ tunes are so silly, 
out of place. 
And melting streams
are bullshit, nothing else. 
No, no, nothing else!

Brooks bubble bright, 
rays gleam with light, 
ice thaws away 
and hearts are melting!
Even a stump, 
in April’s clump, 
dreams being a birch under rain pelting.

A merry bee’s sound 
buzzes spring’s alarm, 
first starlings shout with glee 
from every tree... 
They squeal shrilly 
tweet-tweet-tweety
“Spring marches on! 
Make way
for Love and Spring!”