Spring Poem

by Skye Olivia

It's spring.  It's spring.  It's spring.  It's spring.
The orange and red roses so sweet.
We pick and pick and put them in water.
It is spring.

Bees with honey
Put the pollen on their legs.
They know that spring is here.

The birds sing so sweet.
It's spring.  It's spring.  It's spring.

(Transcribed as best as possible by Mama, who could not write fast enough to get it all.  But you get the picture.  And no, we do not have roses yet.)