The First Sip of Spring

Spring turns up in muddy boots
Suck…suck…suck at my ankles.
Born of a steady, velvet rain,
every breath tastes of rebirth.
Resurrection.

Dwarf irises spiky and erect
Freckled with purple tears and
Golden mouths dripping life dust
Clearly unaware of how tiny they are.
So proud.

Lyra plunges into the creek, retrieving
mouthfuls of icy water as it rolls
down the mountain. The last vestiges
of winter snow still sparkling,
but now in motion.

Why are the only evident colors
on a yellow-bellied sapsucker
his black and white checked waistcoat
and the dashing red crown on his head?
Shouldn’t I see yellow?