The Spring Thing - A Poem by J.A. McCormick

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

A month of spring,
Joyous thing,
But dangerous too.
How dare you
Expend such love?
It seems extreme
When you consider
You might get hurt
With all that love lying about.
So you rolled up the grass
And pulled in the flowers.
A month was enough
Spring for one year.
And you said to yourself
Perhaps that spring thing
Was just a fling.
But summer and fall were all a drawl
Without spring.
And winter was worst of all
And wouldn't give way.
For without spring,
There was no...spring,
You know, the bouncy thing
That keeps it all moving
The whole year round.
And so you did your best to recall
Back past winter and before the fall,
Before the summer
To the very spring thing
You'd called a fling.
And there in your memory
All cramped and small,
In a far away corner
Not very tall,
Stood the very love thing
That had started it all.
But he whimpered and cried
And started to bawl.
He said "I'm so small
And not very tall.
Don't spread me about
I'm sure to be mauled!"
But you closed your eyes
And grabbed that love thing
And started to spread it
Around with a zing!
And though at first
It hurt something terrible,
Soon you found
It was better than bearable.
And that the thing
You'd wanted all along
Was spring.
So now with every chance you get,
You spread the love thing
And not just in spring.
For love is the very best thing of all
For turning the seasons,
Winter, spring, summer and fall.