O, for a harp of light and a song of love!
Spring be springy—what tookya so long?
My nose besotted, senses all a-tripped—
The crocuses dancing, the breezes burst with
O, if one, sole hour returned youth
And let me gallop ‘cross the grassy swards.
Yards upon yards my ten-league boots should fly,
Once more the air would bellow through my throat on
Cruel April, Leonine March, and Stormy May—
The ground ferments, all sap and blood will flow!
And newborns with their clumsy joy engaged
While mothers mind them, giving a mothers’
– Xper Dunn – Friday, March 09, 2012