Green is happening.
Through the sweet expectant chill
Of a northern spring
We have gone without will,
Without fear, without reason,
Trusting to the power
Of a fickle season,
Of a passionate hour,
To mature, to sustain
Till the plan uncovers
In the sun and rain.
Early lovers
Never question much
What is quietly beating
Through the music and the touch
And the mouths meeting.