Michigan Spring

She teases like a belle at the ball, declining to dance, even though her eyes say yes.
She is a coquette, hot then cold, inviting then forbidding.
She is the worst flirt, she lures us then spurns us.
But when she twirls her skirts and shows all her charms,
You know she was worth the wait.

There is nothing more beautiful than Michigan Spring.
Winter takes her sweet time, delighting in our suffering.
But when her radiant, lovely sister finally steps out on the dance floor,
We see her for the mirror image of her cold sibling.
The delightful splendor of Michigan Spring.
Michigan Spring is divine but she never comes on time.

There is nothing more majestic than her trees and her fauna.
There is nothing more soothing than her cool breezes.
How to describe the color of her sunsets.
How to explain the grandeur of her great lakes and streams.
The intoxicating song of her birds and her bees.
The grace and elegance of her deer.
Michigan Spring is the best-kept secret.
For some reason I just had to share it.