spring song, Lucille Clifton

The green of Jesus is breaking the ground and the sweet smell of delicious Jesus is opening the house and the dance of Jesus music has hold of the air and the world is turning in the body of Jesus and the future is possible

Spring, Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Firefly, Jacqueline Woodson

 It’s almost May and yesterday I saw a firefly. You don’t see them a lot in the city. Sometimes in the park in the near dark one comes out you’ll hear a little kid shout Lightning bug! Firefly!

It’s almost May and yesterday I caught a firefly in my hand. First firefly I seen in a long, long time. Make a wish, Miss Edna said. Make a good one. Firefly wishes always come true.