A Girl Named Spring

Original poem

Spring, the blossomed season, sits
In a field of grassy growths
Pulling off her woolen mitts
Finally free of winter coats

Rising lightly to her feet
Spirited, the virgin maid
Dances to a gentle beat
Echoing across the glade

Playful breezes tease her dress
Rippling the simple gown
Breaths of wafting warmth caress
Skin that's tinged a golden brown

To and fro her body drifts
Swaying 'neath the shining sun
Spreading seeds like fertile gifts
'Til, at last, her dance is done