spring

I have to write a poem on Spring,
Of trees that bloom and birds that sing.
I like the birds the trees and Spring,
But hate the poem I have to bring.
I like to hear the birds sweet song,
But hate to study all day long.
I love to roam among the trees
And study Botany as I please.
If I could do just as I wish,
If I could hike and hunt and fish,
The Spring would then most truly be
The season best designed for me.
The School would be my last retreat;
You'd never see me in my seat.
I'd have the time of my young life
With bat and ball and gun and knife.
I'd never try to write on Spring
Or trees or flowers or anything;
I'd just have fun the whole day long
And feel within my heart the song.

This poem was written for a school assignment 90 years ago by my grandpa George Olson who would be 101 tomorrow. How much he would have loved his great grandson who just happened to title his kindergarten chalk art assignment "Spring." Considering that tomorrow will also be the celebration of my grandma Gaye's 93 amazing years, Spring will forever be our season for remembering the poetry of two beautiful lives.