It is like they took a black and white photo
And someone had just one paintbrush
And began to touch it all up with
The color yellow.
As I drive along the road
My eye is invariably drawn
To these audacious highlights
Signaling spring.
The wind still howls on many days
The rain can lash cold against the face
But nights draw longer inexorably
Seasons change.
Why yellow in all that is touched?
Whether sun-stroked bush
Or multitudinous erupting bulbs
April's color.
Yellow, breathing life back into
The slumbering world of black and white
Assaults the eyes and senses
Brings a smile.
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