“April’s Song”

It’s spring; it’s spring, the birdies sing with glee
and all around creeps the columbine vine
startling some stately tree.

It’s spring; it’s spring, the fishes  spin their tale
and swirling near streams, the wildflowers be
home for some tiny snail.

It’s spring; it’s spring; the valley sings its song;
squirrels in tune curl their tales at the moon
as the green grows along.