Spring's First Sun


Touch
my face
with tender tips
first born
sun of spring.

Smell
the winter's
rags of age
never last
and cling.

Hear
the season's
sounds of bells
sending snow
to melt.

See
the vibrance
of the colour
in your heart
is felt.

Taste
the flowing
sap of growth
in the plant
you eat.

When all
nature is in bloom
Then —
the rose
you'll meet.

Britta Kantzer

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