Poetry of spring

Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green in rhyme
a different metre for every clime
birds chirping to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dews
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whispering in each breeze
butterflies — floating apostrophes
ladybugs dot floral question marks
blissful bees stray stanza to stanza
seeds disperse from verse to verse
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended

—Terri Guillemets


The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.

—Terri Guillemets

P.S.  Thanks so much to everyone who let me know about USA Today and King Features Syndicate using this quote for their “Cryptoquote” on December 3rd. That’s pretty cool! They actually left out a small portion and quoted it as “The color of springtime is flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.” —tg, 2022