You’ve lived through other springs, my dear,
And felt returning warmth of April days;
But, oh, this year,
You’re wiser, far, and curious to know
The world and all its ways.
There’ll be so many things you’ll ask!
And it will be a happy task
Of mine to answer you:
“What makes the bluebird’s wings so blue?
What pushed the crocus through the grass?
And, Mother, why do petals fall
From gentle breezes as they pass
Along the narrow crooked lane?
And why are silver shafts of rain
So very soft and warm again?
Why is robin a blithe fellow?
What makes chickies fluffy yellow?
What do frogs in the marshes say?
Why do willows sway and sway?
What makes the brown wren chirp and sing?
And, Mother, truly what is spring?”
Oh, my small four-year-old, I’m praying
That God will guide my words.
When we’re discussing flowers and birds;
And make them colorful and true,
When I interpret spring for you!