Spring Song

By June Masters Bacher

It comes when you’re not looking—

An unexpected thing—

A something you’ve no name for

That makes you want to sing.

One moment you feel wintry,

Then you take a look,

And suddenly a crocus

Sprouts by a frozen brook.

A branch of pussy willow

Will reach to touch your cheek.

You hear a singing thrasher,

See violets shyly peek.

The season, like the catkins,

Is clinging to each bough.

You long to burst out singing,

And spring will show you how!