as March cold days give way to April's hue,
a joy for spring's fresh loveliness is felt,
a prescience of summer, sunlight, dew.
My camera's eye can faithfully record
the sunny-speckled finery of green,
while marvel mine the workings of the Lord
that there could be such beauty to be seen.
Then through this springing beauty you appear;
your walk betrays the drabness of the trees;
all things are eclipsed by your features dear,
and now seems old this spring my camera sees.
Since your sweet loveliness springs ever new,
my eyes are forced to rest only on you.
-- by Pete Voelz -- for my wife, Easter, 2003
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