Spring, O Muse

Spring you are the writer’s muse, A symphony of colors, scents, and hues, Your canvas painted with blossoms and dew, A masterpiece of renewal, ever true. As golden rays pierce through the mist, Caressing buds on branches they’ve kissed, Cherry blossoms blush as their hearts unfold, Whispering nature’s secrets not yet foretold. Petals unfurl like delicate dreams, Crocuses, daffodils, and tulips it seems, Their colors burst forth, a vibrant array, As if the sun itself had colored each display. So let us dance with the daffodils, Sing with the robins on distant hills, For spring has whispered its sweet refrain, And life awakens, once again. by C.K. Sharpe

Deuteronomy 32:2_Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.