A Poem About Spring

Something is in the air...
My problems... I do not care?
The only thing high in the sky,
is the sun.
With its rays cracking through,
the winter's shield,
Only one thing can be true,
Spring is not at a yield.

Spring has the petal to the metal,
flooring it now,
reaching up to speeds of sixty,
and soon enough seventy.

The buds of flowers are itching to strip,
ready to reveal and show off,
the beauty they have to hide,
because winter's bitter wrath,
has been defeated.

It has been a gruesome uphill battle,
most of us were victorious,
and the dead cold winter has once again been defeated,
but like any worth opponent,
enemy's return.

For the word is balanced,
but for right now,
let us soak in,
those warm rays of the sun,
and not just smell the spring in the air,
but have it in our step.