Over fields flat and broad
as emptied rooms,
a sunburst cracks
this morning's horizon.
Dad's red tulips,
beneath the feeder,
almost bloom.
Grape hyacinths hoist
clusters of fairy-egg blue.
The forsythia blossoms
tatters of sunshine.
The sky has fallen
and is coming back up
in flowers.
Simply beautiful. The kind of poem that fills the core of one's heart with gratitude.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tom!
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