In Flower's Bloom: Sonnet Two

How rare this day proceeds in flower’s bloom,
How early Rose can show with Passion’s wake.
As Bearded’s languid folds extend their loom,
Wild Iris’ buds hold still in time’s forsake.

How sweet they open, mark, these warm Spring gifts,
With morning dew on silken pedals’ spread,
How hard the stalk that seeks to hold these lifts,
That entry might their hungry nectar shed.

How swift it seems, like breaths that come and go,
Those enter at their peak and driven gain
The joy at perfect moment’s verdant flow,
And in this joyous residue sustain.

How wonderous that life itself renew,
A graceful dance in brazen Spring’s debut.