Spring fauna

The spring sun now shines all the way down.

I can feel it on my brown arm and my frown.

The night is losing its endless fight,

Time spent awake no longer too tight.

Especially because of the local fauna,

Going crazy in the morning like Madonna.

Screeching and chirping at 5 am,

It’s not like I never want to hear them,

But, as you know, sleep is nice,

And 5-ish hours do not suffice.

So, any birds reading this right now,

Mating calls only after nine would be wow.

Mayday Picnic

Mayday Picnic, my friend brought bread

The sun is out! I think the winter is dead!

We have grapes and mead and buns,

And loads of sunshine, tons and tons!

I think I burned my forehead again,

First burn of summer from my snoozing Zen!

Lying in the sun after over half a year,

Eating apples and carrots with beer.

Spread some olives and peppers of bell

On the rye bread and salivate like hell.

Somebody’s cold? Here, have a hug,

And this large-ish cocoa-mug.

That damn cloud brought the winter back,

May is the month of its “I’m back!” attack.

One day sun, next day sleet,

But now I’ll eat this chocolate treat.

There’s a small dog with a stick too big,

I can hear the birds as I take a swig.

Oh my, oh my, how I missed the sun,

And my friends, and the warmth they spun!

Eyes of the seasons’

My eyes changed color, I guess summer’s over,

When it’s hot they’re the same as your average clover:

A very deep green that’s velvety and soft,

If you look too deep, you’ll yawn quite oft.

With the leaves they tend to turn yellow or red.

A stranger saw them, frightened to death.

They do blend in with the falling leaves.

Leaves are falling? The birch tree grieves?

When it gets colder, they become blue.

A bit like ice, but deeper in hue.

A friend told me they’re dots of dancing ice.

Like a glacier holding ancient cries.

When it gets warmer, they turn white,

In spring I can’t see, too bright.

Milky and useless they wait for summer,

For the bright day they can hear the drummer,

Drumming the rhythm of changing hues,

Green is coming with reds and blues!

Signs of summer

It snowed today but the banks didn’t stick,

This means summer is coming real quick!

Ears didn’t freeze and I woren’t a wool hat,

Soon I’ll tan and swat at a gnat!

The birches have atoms with a greenish tint,

Soon, a sun so bright you will have to squint!

I’ll lie in the sun and not move a muscle,

Just feel the wind give my hair a soft tussle.

Signs of summer in the north are precious;

The summer is tight and the winter real spacious.

When you see even the smallest hint,

You take your hammock and then you sprint.

Enjoy the sun and the warmth so frail.

In a short while it’s replaced by hail.

Ice chunks

Snow banks with ice chunks during spring,

Invite a quick kick, a leathery sting.

Seeing the ice break off is pretty damn fun,

As it crashes down to the snow in the sun.

Competing with friends who gets there first,

Or who has the guts to ram them headfirst.

Sometimes the boulders withstand every kick,

And others just fall to pieces with a flick.

The ones that don’t break need teamwork,

When it falls, the laughter’s the perk.

This makes sure summer’s road is smooth,

Gives a fun hobby to those who enjoy youth.

Mr. Birch

I’m a birch and I’m black and white.

Sometimes I’m green but not at night.

I like the seasons, they’re my friends.

I’ve seen some starts along with some ends.

 

You know what’s the good thing when spring comes?

For the whole winter I’ve twiddled my thumbs.

When the leaves come, they make a nice pop.

This tells me to open up shop.

With my leaves I hear and see,

I talk with the birds and listen to a flea.

They ask questions, sometimes they sing.

Without my leaves I wouldn’t know a thing.

 

You know what’s good when it’s midsummer?

When you can hear the woodpecker-drummer.

If there’s a breeze in which the leaves sway,

It tickles me and makes my day.

If there’s not, they shade my bark,

Along with the squirrels who leave their mark.

Hiding an acorn or two in my hair,

Running up and down without a care.

 

You know what’s good when autumn is here?

When I get yellow and red in my ear.

The leaves fall down and I can’t see.

Neither can I hear, which makes me free.

I feel light as the leaves don’t weigh,

Dream in peace in the white and gray.

I have dreams of color and white,

Of dark things that are driven by light.

 

You know why I love the winter so cold?

Why I’ll love it till I’m twisted and old?

The frost that covers branch and twig,

Is the finest and lightest, coolest wig.

The ice on my hair makes me sapling-fresh,

It makes me want to dance and thresh.

I look like a bride and feel like a groom.

But just for a moment, then I start to bloom.

 

If you ask me, every season is glee.

But that would be silly, you’re asking a tree.