When weary winter walks away,
And springtime waltzes in,
He leaves his empty cup behind
For her to fill again.
Devoid of color, flower beds
Now rise to the occasion
With brilliant views of varied hues—
A breathtaking sensation.
The mountain casts off soiled white shawls
From all the naked trees,
Where soon will spread towards the sky
Abandoned playgrounds, parks, and yards,
Once stark and lonely places,
Fill up with laughter, noise, and song
And happy children’s faces.
Dry springs, of moisture long deprived,
Greet April rains with glee,
Then overflow their muddy banks
To rush on merrily.
Tall shrubs that shivered in the cold
Give voice to brittle cries,
Till sunshine brings them blossom sweets
For pastel butterflies.
Farm fallow fields, unoccupied,
Of vegetation bare,
Send forth from early buried seeds
Fresh plantings everywhere.
To desert’s vacant canvases,
The Painter does arrive
To brush on pink and purple blooms
As rose and cactus thrive.
And I, with hollowness of heart,
To heaven make my plea.
God grants me mercy, grace, and love
From His abundancy.
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