Springtime awakens with the risen light,
A painted canvas over the distant hills.
Hummingbirds flutter in silky bouquets
As the garden blooms and vines spread away.
Quiet warmth seeps into the morning air,
Soothing shivers of yesterday's eventide.


I don't know if I'm satisfied with the end. I don't even know if I like the poem. It seems pretty choppy, but it does feel good to write. I really love synonyms.