The Dreamer

Soft white clouds are floating by.

A bird glides lazily past.

The sun so brightly fills your eye.

It must be Spring at last.

The crocus and the daffodil

So anxious to be blooming.

The grass is greening upon the hill

And trees, their buds are grooming.

A person is so like the spring

Impatient to be doing.

The winter doldrums seem to bring

New projects for pursuing.

The grass, the trees, what meets the eye

All begging for attention.

Plus nature walks and kites to fly

Too numerous to mention.

You sigh and get back to the grind

And push and pull the leaves

And try to push out of your mind

This feeling of Spring Fever.

©May Baker Winkel