Saturday, April 12, 2014

Spring rose

gold faded
copper tan and
dusky silver hair

fallen from fair
arms that have
prayed through
frozen words
and absent birds

risen from fallen
hair, youth of
new yet known
seeds already
sown before
within the floor

lifting hands
young in what
the birds have
sung or sing
beyond winter
icy sting

fragile meek
and mild, the
wilds speak in
green crisp
tongues of
the old turned
new once more




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