Spring

I

Spring has sprung;

That’s what is sung

In my family, anyhow.

The grass is riz10 …

Son, get out the mower;

Cut the grass, grab the blower.

Scrub the patio, get out the barbie,

And grab the mozzie spray.

I’ll get the beer, if I may.

I wonder where the birdies is.

The kookaburras laugh

In the old gum trees,

So watch that their poop

Doesn’t fall on me!

 

II

Camellia flowers litter the ground,

Wattle blooms yellow all around,

And the suburbs are spotted

With patches of mauve plots

As the jacaranda signal that

Spring has arrived: no doubt!

While a magpie calls for its mate,

Carolling from dawn till late,

Children cover their heads

With anything that may serve

 

To guard against the sudden swoop

Of a magpie guarding its brood

Of a single noisy black chick,

Its cries filling the springtime air.

 

III

Spring is signalled by light:

The time when day equals night

And the August winds cease.

But there is no peace

From nature’s caprice;

One day, snow falls on spring flowers.

The next brings warm showers

That flood the droughted land.

As the bush grows drier,

The newspapers cry,

“Tinderbox! Fire! Fire!”

And the pretty TV weather girl

Points to the ominous whirls

Courtesy of global warming.

 

IV

Every season has its time,

Marked by counting the days,

Mostly predictable and certain;

It’s always been that way.

But that is not how it is

In the Land That Time Forgot;

A season can be long or short

Or never happen at all …

 

Spring marks the time between,

Celebrating a new beginning,

Marking the end of winter days,

Heralding the summer’s heat,

And the segue along the way

May never happen at all.