Joy for Springs Return

Inspired by George Orewell's writing on toads.

Down by the river, under a crisp blue sky

They stand together, bare arms held high.

It's the dry season’s dormant, dead-looking trees

Stripped of their adornment in an autumnal wheeze.

 

He takes a picture, the shutter speed seems slow

The image blurs or is it his eyes? He doesn’t know.

 

Hidden in the earth, dreaming of the river

Where she will give birth. Her golden eyes quiver.

The cardinals sing a love song and flit around the bower

Boxing hares wreck the lawn, bees pollenate the flowers.

 

He wants to be a part of all he sees

But feels no pleasure, only apathy.

 

A dogwood branch bleeds red, its sap begins to flow

Awakening the undead, by the sun, and rain to grow.

Late summer's buds reserved, swell at winter's end

All that energy preserved, explodes to life again.

 

Upload to computer, the screen is so bright

When did he last sleep? Spinning thoughts in the night.

 

Do you remember child’s gaze, on spring's grand return

Lost in joyful fascination of nature's annual turns.

Days stretch their legs long, while night pulls away

The earth spins ever along and another human prays.

 

Life in the barren age. Who is he? He wonders lifelong

Where does he belong?  Why does he always feel wrong?

 

Waiting for happiness to come, with multiplying wants

New technology, here's another one, for your dreams to haunt.

Are we better people now? I can't enjoy the city

Or a shady bough, or what I have already.

 

The screen is so cold. He had a friend that killed himself last year

Maybe that was the way to end. To stop living and escape the fear

 

Waiting for rebirth, a spring in our hearts

Praying for release, this is where it starts.

The march of life is killing joyful pleasures

And we are willing to live by this measure.

 

He wants to sleep for eternity. He is apart, different

Listless and without hope of escape he can’t bear it.

 

A child sees a toad dig itself from a grave

This love of nature, this joy is all we crave.

So sad we can't return, to how we used to be

To only value what we earn, rather than who to be.

 

We’re so plugged-in/disconnected. He buys the latest gadget

He’s a failure, but maybe technology can hide his mediocrity.