Sometimes I am like a tree
impatient for spring in August,
which at the first sign
of mild weather bursts into blossoms
too early, overenthusiastic
and frail against winter's last
strong breaths of frost.
Resilient plants know
to put forth only hope at first;
to hold the singing birds gently, lightly;
stay bare-branched and watch
knowing something will awaken
even without the desperation.
YOU ARE READING
Sweeping Winds and Rainbow Beginnings
PoetryThese are a few of my poems. I would prefer to take my time and try to sort the better ones out from the rubbish so it might take me a while to collect. I hope you can stop by and enjoy a poem or several. In poetry (good or bad) we express something...
