Spring springs up, with His darling rays
Light caresses the ground and out comes the first flowers
Summoned by His call, they only needed one phrase
To build their buds and turn them into towers
They too start their announcements, they are ready for the fauna who have been away for days
All green skin with their flamboyant faces, their newness extends with the showers.
The birds fly and float, singing with vernal glee
Clouds sigh and stroll, air turns into lazy breeze
Rivers break out of their cold confinements, running free
Flowers dreaming of their foreseeable fruitful forms, adorn the trees
All made possible with the blessings of the bee
Bodies soon leave their abodes, enticed by the balmy heat, Summer's tease.
Spring leaps out, like a verdant child
Florid in nature, an expectation from one forever in bloom
Moulding melodies that mark the skies, painting pelages of creatures that walk the wild
Not knowing He was born in a brumal tomb
With ears and eyes that have only perceived conditions mellow and mild
With feet and fingers that have never fully appreciated the frigid womb.
Does His death and rebirth happen in a blink of an eye?
Or does He sleep after passing duties to the next head?
A primeval being has no care for a how and a why,
On whether He's found dead or in a bed
But here's an answer, a quick reply:
He does all and none of what has been said.