Illusions from nuclear winter

    Sweetly risen from slumber's ides,
The dew of morn, the Vernal tides,
Early heaved as breaths,
rapt, as born from an awakening bossom;
Avian canticles hung as wreaths
as their flight takes forth from wooden chasm
and weave-ed cots amidst her branches,
Enticing primal warmth to scare winter's blanches.

Once rang the whistled frigid gloom,
And now, to replace, fervid, feverish bloom
and refrain
once they sang,-
thickly had hung within previous Solstice fever,
Crescendos slow into delight's leisure,
teasing the heart from gelid pang,
as one yearns for amity's pleasure.

Incipient blossom, bejeweled in releived tears
with burgeoning hues dispelling rimey fears-
All in callow form, renewed from cryonic hull
now chorus in Her supple hall;
bairn all in short respite in the lull
of gossamer streams, from azure, fall-
The maiden green longs and quiver;
The incubus within the stag shivers.

Auspicious yawns awake the morn,
and gently graced, the Spring is born.