Photography > Little Rayburn


The flower opens and does not blush at the sun,
Or the robin bearing a breast
Of crimson upon the
The new clover.

I heard over the radio
They are trying to find love on bumble,
As a bee rolls freely upon
The godhead

We dread and lose touch and hold a plastic cup,
Trying to save a world

It's a swirl of spring showers,
That help poets dream easier
And for the children to feel calmer
In the illusion of seasons
With global warming

As the dust and ashes are
Washed away,
Before the
Dawn shows its face
Without disgrace.

You told me to write shorter poems,
But the heart goes on and on and on

In its searching for the stone,

That won't break the Waters
Face
And change the horizon.

A displaced seed finds a crack in someone's Mercy,
And the root finally takes hold,
In the drama and the fiction
As the pages are folded

Someone posts a petal appearing
And suddenly the pain diminishes
By a thousand

Media darling.

The wire is not the stem,
But we hold our phones
More tightly

Than the love that channels the
Rain.


Please remember! the birds are singing renewal and we get to witness the blessings of another spring.
poetry
2019