Sonnet IX/Spring Poem III
Behold the eastern redbud crowned in bloom,
Existing flowers with no hint of leaves,
Nor branches, nor a single thing which weaves,
Except for pink, for more there is not room.
Say pink? No wait, perhaps I should say mauve--
Or lavender, or salmon laced with pearl,
Or giddy, scarlet color from the whirl
Of grass, of trees, of clouds, of life, of love.
The redbud blooms and scent transcends the air;
The redbud blooms and life becomes more fair.
A dryad lovely, so becomes the tree--
A coquette laughing, dancing wild and free
I catch her hand and 'ere she takes to wing
I touch her lips, I kiss the living spring.
Christopher J. Cramer