Turning

It is that time of the year,
to wax poetic vehicles
as spring nears.

I've always been a lazy waxer,
one coat and a quick buff
is usually sufficient.

Sounds like a blog blurb,
blowing hot air up your ass,
but then spring does bring out
the inevitable wild hare in us.

Even the old rabbits:

Kick their heels in jubilation,
twitch whiskers anticipating
the beginning of the season
where green grass grows long
in such untamed vast profusion.

Give chase under Goddess moon
then couple in frantic pairs,
freshing that brings new issue
and a message in bladed nests
that it ain't so bad to be a hare.

Celebrate the years long turning
with fecund ribald contemplation
and mad musing gemmed melancholy
leaving young to the care of Artemis
and hop away to dine on fresh greens