Little Sprouts

Little sprouts of grasses,
I can see them there.
Tender shoots appearing,
As I stand and stare.

Winter time has cuddled gently,
Adding to their need.
As the sun comes forth to waken,
Every little seed.

Sweet and tender sproutlets,
Tickled in their mirth.
Happy is their time of coming,
Here to dwell on earth.

Puddles form to give enrichment,
Jumping in their leap.
Going down to moisten caverns,
Where the little rootlets sleep.

Little sproutlets gently coming,
I can see them by the gate.
Holding hands they push together,
Not a one will stand and wait.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Lily-of-the-valley transplanted to my yard from my mother's yard.