Celebration Of Spring Poem by Reginald Reid

NEXT SPRING

'Tis spring as all the world revives
and all around shouts I'm alive.
For in the morn', in the day, and into the night
all nature now conceives new life
While slumber now well left behind
gives way to restive active times.

When showers fall on parched dry grounds
seeds awake as if aroused by calling sounds.
Leaves unfurl from buds that sprout,
while branches like great arms stretch out.
And fertive birds court in flying dance
seeking a mate for life perchance.

Overcome by this fresh new feeling
mankind stirs up, emotions reeling.
For like all creatures on the earth
we're destined to recreate from birth.
But more than this we know desire
that all consuming passionate fire.

'Tis spring and all the world's awry
financial systems running dry.
Floods and earthquakes across the world.
Drought and famine, rescue tents unfurled.
Dictators toppled, dispossessed.
The Arab Spring describes unrest.

Technology now drives our lives
and Twitter or Facebook are our wives.
There is no secret in living now
with Google and other new found secret sacred cows.
Conversation's dead we can no longer speak.
It's email, text, or we just tweet.

We live in a new time of spring
when much is made of everything.
News received in just a flash discarded like some old cold ash.
It is no longer so surprising that mobile phones start an uprising.
Personal space and privacy we seek,
but crave the notoriety of the fickle and the weak.

Life passes by with increasing speed.
Expediency deals with those in need.
The powerful and negotiators
assemble wealth like alligators.
And how will it be next spring?
It will be the same, but pulled by a different string