Our colorful spring wildflowers are beginning to emerge: bluebonnets; pink evening primrose; purple vetch; yellow star grass.
Mixed with winter’s leftover browns, blacks, and grays, the colors shine. Still, green is a color of spring as well, and the season of greens clearly appealed to English poet Philip Larkin. His fondness for ‘ordinary people doing ordinary things’ sometimes echoes in his nature poetry. His poem entitled “The Trees” presents an ordinary spring doing ordinary things, and the effect is extraordinary.
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In full grown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say.
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.