An Ode to Spring

By Stuart Gimble

As winter fades away, a distant memory, its last flakes of snow glisten for they have been melted by the golden sun and are now drops dew beaded on blades of grass. Tadpoles who have recently garnered legs rush to land and join together in a chorus of peeps. Longer days strangle the night and elation absorbs one lad's mind.

This dandy we shall follow, for he is of great import to the remainder of this story. He is a man of letters, a refined chap, the kind who tips the shoeshine boy a dime on each morn. Hermetic and dedicated in his work, adventurous and curious in his play, our lad drinks the Spring! The smell of the flowers and their pollen is like God's breath to him. Trees painted amber with the glow of the sunset are pillars illuminated by the light of heaven. Our boy is life!

The dandy fears not frolicking. Skipping from one destination to the next, he'd paint the streets pastel if he could. The soft pale colors would warm the city streets and all would praise the lad and gambol behind him. Arias echo in alleyways as our boy passes through them, his smooth tenor a perfect compliment to this spring morning. A quaint house lies ahead. "Alas, my fair Clarisse," the dandy exclaims as he dances toward the doorstep of his favorite lass.

Does our lad care that the fair Clarisse is a bit taller than he? Nay. Is it of his concern that she is a bit brawny? Nay, he loves her the same. She peeks out the door as the boy approaches. Her shoulders (which are, admittedly, a bit broad for a feminine frame) are bare and her body is wrapped in a pale pink dress. The dandy's heart leaps as he espies her. "She is the prettiest of flowers," he thinks, "and the thorns on this rose only make it prettier."

"Have you come for our walk?" the lass inquires.

"Why yes, are you ready to bask in the joy that is April?" our lad adjusts his cravat.

"My body is ready to appreciate the beauty of the Earth's vernal state. Shall we?"

With a smart nod, the dandy moves toward his love, who kneels down next to him. The boy climbs atop her sturdy shoulders and, with muscular strides, the lass carries him away, the pair singing the sweetest springtime harmonies.

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This page contains a single entry by Stuart Gimble published on April 1, 2002 1:55 PM.

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