Thankfully, the ornamental cherry trees outside our living room window provide never ending fodder for poetry.
endings are never really
wind
undulates branches
releasing
a whirling reel
of pink spinners
a frolic of fair folk
branches emerge,
stoic arms stretching
as tree purges
the pink of spring
readying for
its green getup
of summer
soon
the dance is over
furies spent,
upon the earth
spinning sleepers
quiet now
a carpet of pink
I love this! The first line all by itself makes such a statement. "A frolic of fair folk," I really like this line and so many others! Thank goodness for tree folk. They do inspire!
ReplyDeleteThank you. That first line is meant to be a title, but I am sure it might become a poem all on it's own.
DeleteLove those 'a whirling reel/of pink spinners' & the 'green getup', Cheriee. You are far ahead of us! I haven't seen one blooming tree yet!
ReplyDeleteThey are everywhere here!
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