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!

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney