fledgist | a fact of growth

the maples out in front are now in leaf

they're always late only the top is green

below they've budded with a reddish sheen

but all i know's the sight gives me relief

once more we're past the season of slow grief

and watch as down the street the youngsters preen

in repetition of an ancient scene

knowing the heat of summer won't be brief

what's left inside must still be given voice

to sing of what has been and what must come

that's honest truth the whole and not some part

since what we do is really not our choice

but what we must add to the human sum

out of our knowledge and by gentle art