And you will know spring by its teeth: out of standard.

Spring Greetings from the Heart of the Beast Theater.  Copyrighted.  Isadora Gruye photography.

Greetings Garden Dwellers.  Welcome back to Out of Standard.  My monthly(ish) prompt where I will call upon you to write out of the standard and find new places in the everyday.  And today is no exception.

The Spring is often greeted with a warm welcome and a rejoicing.  Gone is the cold, blustery purple clouds of Ole Man Winter.  Green things sprout from ground and (tree) limb, and gardeners stand back with a giddy anticipation for the plump fruits and veggies that their plots will soon push upward.  The days grow longer, and the sky seems three shades of blue, each brilliant and benevolent.  

My fellow toads, because spring is here on the North Plain, I proudly present today's out of standard challenge:

The underbelly of Spring....
That's right.  Spring ain't all tulips and bunnies.  It's tulip allergies and bunnies being eaten by dogs.  It's bird nests full of eggs falling on the sidewalk.  It's randy possums biting babies in the park.  It's swollen rivers pushing past their banks and devouring towns.  It's a whole bunch of things which are dark and brutal, and it's scary as hell.  

The challenge:
Write a poem about the dark, brutal nature of spring.  Reinvent the season.  Bring us the unexpected.

Also, like every challenge, your poem must be newly written for this challenge and not one previously written which conveniently fits the theme.   

Go now, my toads, and bring me back something startling, shiny, and new.