living · poetry · Spring · Uncategorized



How softly the winds blow, a sweet caressing breeze, it awakens,

as though the winter claimed, nearly, my last breath,

just taken,


the sun on my face scorches with its fire underneath my skins,

my hands reach for the tumbled earth, this love, …never forsaken,

kneeling in the tender blades, heads reared like a wild steed,

I breathe in and breathe out, each seed, planting

…until my fingers bleed,

How sweet the perfume of Spring, wafting in my window,

it makes my soul awaken, the frost of winter

like the feathers of the dandelions



Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s