When the trees flower pink and white <br />filigree, and the sleeping <br />god comes back to life <br /> <br />here, where our mountains preside <br />so drably much of the year <br /> <br />now, when the walls of our valleys <br />are so green, green, green on all sides, <br />and our eyes see easy <br /> <br />before Nature gets carried away <br />and squeezes out too much Fire <br />and it all burns dead again, <br /> <br />you want to pin it <br />down with your pen <br />so it will never slip away, <br /> <br />this elixir, <br />this secret, <br /> <br />for there's nothing <br />I could ever seek <br />beyond this Spring <br /> <br />spreading inside me, <br />flooding my veins forever.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-of-spring/
