rednax20

Cultivation

January 17, 2017
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Gazing past the winter
you can smell more than roses,
more than fresh-turned soil.

Search for glimpses
in Nature’s hideaways
of last year’s lost moments.

Leaves, unswept on your path,
a source of unfortunate worms
for Spring-hungry birds.

Sometimes we grow so much
that simple pleasures
escape our sophisticated minds.

This grave is for a wealthy man,
just look at the beautiful marble
hiding his destitution.

We each rise from our own Spring
hoping forth brightly
where joy waits in a far field.


Nearly Summer

April 1, 2012
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It felt as if the middle of the year

Had come to spread its syrup sun about

The sorry fortunes of the winter days

Dissipated with the gathering warm

But callous Nature played us like some fools

Captured in an April Foolish trick

And brought us back to feeling sorely cold

With prospects of an April spiked with snow.


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