Spring

[ragashree]

What can we count on, this uncertain spring?
Oh, sap may flow and fresh buds may unfold,
But still the cheek-pink cherry’s blossoming
Falls lifeless at one cruel late snap of cold;

And all these new-flown birds’ bright chirruping
Which stakes out each one’s patch, and calls its mate,
Peals us this sweet intoxicating din
Because each fears a sole and barren fate.

I grow with all the life that feeds this air,
And know myself the bud the blossom flings
But resonate with Nature’s savage care
Which does not mind who loses and who wins:

I grow, exultant with my life’s design,
Yet trembling, asking if you would be mine.

 

[InsatiableCuriosity]

This is lovely!

 

[Salomé]

You've really nailed the seasonal sonnet!
Thanks for posting these. I'm going to download and read when I can give them the time they deserve.

 

[infjwatching]

Yes I like this very much:
And all these new-flown birds’ bright chirruping
Which stakes out each one’s patch, and calls its mate,
Peals us this sweet intoxicating din
Because each fears a sole and barren fate.

 

[wildcat]

This is essentially what Sartre said.
Pincherlet said it before Sartre. He had tuberculosis of the bones.
Understanding is pain.