Purple crocus bursts through snow,
Reaching sunward, warm winds blow.
It seems to sing.
Winter’s over—don’t you know?
Lavender lilacs, in a cluster,
Looking like a French maid’s duster;
Giving the yard a fragrant luster.
A blanket of violets covers the lawn,
Woven in webs before the dawn;
A royal hue,
Provides a bed for a doe and fawn.
Twining morning glory vine,
Over lattice, trailing fine;
Shade our crumpets.
Having tea, we chat and dine.
Johnny jump-ups here and there,
Escape the garden if they dare.
Happiness, without a care.
Purple clover, soft enough,
Tickling bunny’s powder puff.
Bees are buzzing,
Pom-poms filled with honey stuff.
Row on row, lupine blooms
Parading soldiers’ helmet plumes;
Down in valleys, over dunes.
A burst of sparkle, fireweed,
Magenta flames, butterflies feed;
Bouquets sing His praise, indeed.
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