Sonnet IX/Spring Poem III

Behold the eastern redbud crowned in bloom,

Existing flowers with no hint of leaves,

Nor branches, nor a single thing which weaves,

Except for pink, for more there is not room.

Say pink? No wait, perhaps I should say mauve--

Or lavender, or salmon laced with pearl,

Or giddy, scarlet color from the whirl

Of grass, of trees, of clouds, of life, of love.

The redbud blooms and scent transcends the air;

The redbud blooms and life becomes more fair.

A dryad lovely, so becomes the tree--

A coquette laughing, dancing wild and free

I catch her hand and 'ere she takes to wing

I touch her lips, I kiss the living spring.

Christopher J. Cramer

March 1982