The Springiest Sight of Spring

Here’s a light-hearted poem I composed for an exercise in our writing group. The brief was to write a piece about spring in any genre, trying to use strong nouns and verbs instead of adjectives. It’s a kind of riddle - let me know in the comments at what point you guess the subject of the poem.

You cannot plant it in the soil, though underground it sleeps 

It does not buzz or flap with wings, yet it takes flying leaps

I've spied it in the winter frost, bounding through the sleet

I've seen it in the summer sun, ear tips atop the wheat. 

I must leave the London streets where no such creature lies

And journey to the meadows beneath the Norfolk skies,

If ever I can hope to spot the springiest sight of spring 

When males engage in combat in nature's boxing ring.

They jab and punch and caper in their annual dance;

Only the fittest specimens will stand a fighting chance.

To win the match, he'll lunge and leap, he must impose his will,

Till his opponent yields and flees, and Jack can win his Jill. 

He doesn't hold with gravity. Nothing can slow him down; 

For length of foot as well as speed, he wears the victor's crown.

Did a tortoise once outwit him? Did Alice share his tea?

O how I hope the mad March hare will box just once for me.

Image by Gerd Altmann, Pixabay