Spring Song

By June Masters Bacher

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    It comes when you’re not looking—

    An unexpected thing—

    A something you’ve no name for

    That makes you want to sing.

    One moment you feel wintry,

    Then you take a look,

    And suddenly a crocus

    Sprouts by a frozen brook.

    A branch of pussy willow

    Will reach to touch your cheek.

    You hear a singing thrasher,

    See violets shyly peek.

    The season, like the catkins,

    Is clinging to each bough.

    You long to burst out singing,

    And spring will show you how!

    Illustrated by Shauna Mooney