Dawn of Spring

The skies awake, beckoning the black birds’ return
Petals dance, welcoming the humming delight.
Crops arise from their eggs, the farmers’ annoyance and pride.
The snow fades away, a new life is brewing.
The sun rises higher, the air gets colder.

The streets, once ever so breathing with
The greetings and wishes now lay barren.
The workers fight over their breakfast, swearing.
The neighborhood is wakened by a piercing noise:
“Get out of bed you lazy scum!”

The golden age of the animals waking, the croaking of the choir of frogs.
The squirrel resumes its daily routine, humming.
The hard steel melts before the river, ducks emerge.
The trees stretch out their dormant branches, ready for jade-green leaves.
Nature radiates itself, the neighborhood darkens.

Instead of the usual farmers receiving
The golden rewards of harvest, the fields
Are replaced by the deafening beasts that men now control
And that roam with definite automation and somewhere there would be a savage
“Hurry up, I don’t have all day!”

The grass reflects colours of the lakes
The new-borns after decades of winter,
The decades which froze the pain, the past, then brought forth another.
The distant calls of joy of the children have vanished.

The neigbourhood looks forward to the dusk of fall.
The sun glows skywards,
The neigbourhood gets darker.