Spikes of gay feathers upon a northern prairie bloom,
Waving April's name across the snowmelt of the land.
Above them flurries of snow geese fill the azure sky,
Quickening my winter's heart with their
Deep honking cry...

Golden fingers of sunshine melt the last patches of snow,
While beneath the thawing earth--the glories of the prairie
Continue to grow...

This humble kingdom I see from my old weathered farm--
Another new Spring's eternal charm--
The richest painting by far--
Sketched by Mother Nature's own eloquent arms...

As I breath in the beauty of this prairie perfect day.
I stand on the porch, my hand on the rail,
Clutching the wooden edges--
So that I and the frame--will not fly away...