Sunday, March 01, 2015

3/1






Poetry,
Clings about
The native soil
Of my heart:
Like trailing vines,
Wrapped
In life's embrace,
Enriching the land
Through every scent
And color,
Till all of life
Lies before me,
Luscious, and fragrant
As the first flush
Of the young crocus,
Slipping through the snow.

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