Spring Is Here

Young Lambs - John Clare

The spring is coming by a many signs;
The trays are up, the hedges broken down
That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines
Like some old antique fragment weathered brown.
And where suns peep, in every sheltered place,
The little early buttercups unfold
A glittering star or two - till many trace
The edges of the blackthorn clumps in gold.
And then a little lamb bolts up behind
The hill, and wags his tail to meet the yoe;
And then another, sheltered from the wind,
Lies all his length as dead - and lets me go
Close by, and never stirs, but basking lies,
With legs stretched out as though he could not rise.

It's Time for Spring
Bobbi Katz

My sweater's tight and itchy.
My snow pants are too small.
Last week I lost a mitten.
I can't find my scarf at all!

My woolen socks have lost their toes.
My boots have lost their tread.
And I have lost the love I had
For words like "skis" and "sled"!

But . . . my fishing rod still fits.
And . . . my baseball bat still hits.
I have a kite that wants to fly.
So . . . winter, call it quits!