Spring Contest Submissions

Morning Song - Alexandira M

The sun has yet to rise when I hear the familiar caroling tweets of the American Robins that make their way back at the beginning of every March. These birds had been here long before I had taken residence in this old, rustic cottage and I have no doubt they will remain long after I leave.

Without failure, these red-breasted birds manage to wake when the sky is still painted with only a soft combination of pastel pinks and blues paired with an ever-so-lovely lavender, and a contrasting mellow yellow and light orange duo that gives a sense of warmth. They wake early before the sun kisses the land and water with its rays. They wake early, each and every morning, and the first action they do is share their joy of the world through song. Of course, what they say in these joyful-sounding chirps may as well mean the opposite in the language of the American Robin; but, as I am only human, I can only interpret it based on my own ears.

Regardless of the nature of their chirps, I have found it a welcoming sound to begin and end every day with. Even if this small cottage were to wither and have nothing else to contribute to its appeal other than these small foragers, I believe I would still choose to stay just to hear their chatter.

Now many would be quick to think of me as crazy for spouting such emotional nonsense, which I hold no blame. Even my younger self would view me as crazy for speaking in such a manner. Why would a person be so invested in birds that come and go anyway? A creature with a staggeringly low survival rate that they are only expected to live up to a year or two in the wild, even if they have the life span of a furry companion such as a dog or cat. The reason is rather simple. It is simply because they come and go that I have become so attached to them.

Beginning as early as late August, American Robins make their way south as most birds do; however, they do not travel far. In a flock of many names (blush, carol, riot, gift, ruby) American Robins move far enough to find nutrients rather than avoid the harsh cold of winter.

At first, I did not understand it. If my winged-neighbors were to possess the ability to fly before the frigid winter storms come with their icy winds and bone-chilling rain, why would they leave just far enough to find food? Would it not be better to avoid the winter in its entirety? My younger self could not help but find the nature belonging to American Robins as preposterous. Fortunately, I had soon realized that it was crazier to try and understand American Robins, and by extension any bird, through a human mindset. After all, humans have never possessed wings.

Humans are not built for uprooting their lives come every winter. Unlike American Robins, or any animal for that matter, humans have always needed far more stability. Even in the most chaotic life of a human, there is still stability to be found in the very nature of the consistency of the chaos.

In fact, humans are more akin to trees than birds. Come time that the weather makes travel near impossible and the need for an abundance of thick apparel all the more apparent, humans do not leave. Instead, we wait. Some wait for the snow to melt. Some wait for early blooming flowers to decorate the Earth with their colors. Some wait for the bumbling bees and other pollinators to buzz around. And, similarly to me, some wait for the return of feathery creatures and their joyful songs to break the silence. Regardless of the signs we wait for, we wait. Just like trees, with their roots buried under the soil.

As for the type of tree a person is, it depends entirely on them. Some people are more like the deciduous trees which lose their leaves during the cold season. Others are more like evergreens, still keeping their lovely foliage despite the hardships faced. Regardless of how they react, most are still standing when it comes time to experience the warm, spring breeze breaking through the cold. But unlike trees, people can always change.

Naturally, I have always been closer to a deciduous tree, periods of gloom and stagnation being a constant in my life; however, I have recently done my best to focus on the positives. Similar to the evergreen trees which American Robins build their nests in, I wanted to be able to continue flourishing even as I wait for the caroling calls that signal the return of brighter days and new life.

So come time that the air begins to warm next year as it did the years before, I will wait on the balcony of my backyard with a simple coffee in hand before the sun rises for the familiar caroling tweets of the American Robins. 

These birds may remain long after I leave, but as long as I live in this old, rustic cottage, I will wake when the sky is still painted with a dreamy palette to hear their chirps. For, I cannot think of a better way to start one’s day than listening to such a beautiful morning song.

Birthday of Spring - Lorali T

Spring comes with showers

Spring comes with flowers

In spring, the animals come back to play

In spring, warmth comes back into the fray

Spring brings back beauty that lasts for hours

Spring gives nature back its powers

Along with spring comes April and May

Along with spring comes my birthday

Birthdays come with gifts in towers

Birthdays come with loved ones of ours

On our birthday, we get a wish to say

On my birthday, I’d like to wish the whole day away

Spring comes with showers

Spring comes with flowers

In spring, I decay

Not like the flowers that obey

Spring comes with doubt that lasts for hours

Spring makes me feel as if I have no powers

Along with spring come the feelings I struggle to keep at bay

Along with spring comes the reminder that I am prey

On April 6th, I am just a person that cowers

With no loved ones do I have encounters

On this day,

I merely hope and pray

Nowhere should there be a mood that sours

Nowhere should there be a flower that lours

For spring, sadness is supposed to make way

Along with flowers, our happiness should bloom and sway

But during this season, I feel like I’m being run over with plowers

During this season, I don’t feel peace among the bowers

All I see is a sky of grey

I find it hard to be okay

Pollen - Hina M

Pollen

Spring is here. The air is warm, the birds are chirping, you think to yourself, “It’s going to be a great day!” but then, you see it.

A thin layer of yellow covering the ground.

“Oh god.”

Then the irritation starts. Runny noses all around, puffy eyes, people hacking and coughing as the pollen takes over our lives.

Everywhere you look it’s yellow.

The air has a yellow tint to it.

Yellow yellow yellow.

EVERYWHERE.

Spring is here.

The First Spring Without You - Margaret Rosemary Hess

All the world comes alive again—

or perhaps it remembers how.

Light spills in quiet fragments across my living room,

stretching over dust and floorboards,

and something in me—I suppose they’re called eyes—follows,

pausing where the brightness forgets itself.

An empty rocking chair keeps its silence.

A worn Stephen King novel rests where hands once were.

Grief moves in like water, both sudden and certain,

finding an empty space to rest.

My stomach churns, my chest burns—

Still, I do not turn away.

I will not forget the parts you played.

Salt gathers on my lips as I close my eyes.

Outside, the air feels unfinished—

grass thick with breath, flowers opening into heat.

Spring rises without asking,

messy with dirt and green,

insisting on itself the way you always preferred it did.

Bees drift between petals like small, golden thoughts,

busy with a celebration I cannot quite name.

A rabbit cuts across the yard—quick, vanishing—

and the wind brushes past, almost speaking.

I stand there long enough to begin translating

what cannot be plainly said.

Papa, you are not gone—only changed.

I find you in April rain, in color that refuses stillness,

in the restless edges of the waking world.

You are there in the Indiana Dunes, in shifting sand and sky—

and here, too,

in the quiet architecture of me,

where something of you continues

without needing to be seen.

Spring - Saphira Barfield

Birds are chirping merrily as they scratch about searching for an unsuspecting worm

The grass is green and the flowers are blooming as the bees buzz around them

The wind blows making the green leaves upon a tree rustle softly

The fish are swimming peacefully in the stream as a bear lumbers through the woods

The sky is blue and cloudless

I step out into the warm sun soaking it all in

Winter has left and in its place

Spring has begun

Christopher Graham - Untitled

Spring, where the flowers emerge. It is far more than just a changing of seasons; it's a rebirth of the spirit. Spring is the time of plans and projects, a lovely reminder of how beautiful change can truly be. Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush. The fountain of love for thirsty winter only appears in spring. Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm. So now, despite the forecast, live like it's spring.

Nick Cameron - Untitled

Waldeezy is so breezy and spring is so cheesy

Getting through this season is going to be easy.

Coming into spring there seems to be a drought

But it's not too long until I catch some trout!

William Wallace - Untitled

The grass is green and birds are tweeting,

Bears are drinking and ice is melting.

The Sun is pelting with the wind blowing,

Kids are playing, for spring is showing.

Alexander T - Untitled

Saw blooming flowers, 

They're growing to the sun, 

First sight of spring time