On this day of the first touch
Of mildest chill at dawn,
The freshness can infect much
Fresh thoughts in minds forlorn.
And words of kindest blessing
Fill papers and empty screens;
Love-laden fingers tracing
On canvas wondrous scenes;
A stone to a probing chisel
Reveals a dragon’s wings,
And the north wind whistles
Songs in them who sing…
This is the time most meet
For doubts to be destroyed;
To bring rainbows to the streets
Of the loving city of joy.
To be for sake of being
And call the hiding souls,
Make good of what is felt
And question what is told.
May the frowns unfeeling
Grow wits to look inside,
Grow out of mindless shaming
Grow into the glory of pride.