For Keats
The rain fell, and carried with it petals
Which cover sidewalks, pavements wetted gray.
The pigments, pink and yellow, boldly splayed
Along the path, promote a stroll's abettal;
Each step and breath awakes one to one's mettle.
For who can stay asleep at Spring's display,
And worry on and wander on one's way--
When blossoms, yet to bloom, remain unsettled?
While one may forget the colors in one's wake--
And stare in wonder at the leaves' aplomb,
It seems the trees are banked upon a lake,
Their canopies, reflected in the calm.
