Wet Spring Morn
Windswept rain slaps the bottoms of leaves
as shiveringly they shed it
Grassroots shake and slake their thirst
and wave their blades together
Tightly closed tree buds stand tall
reaching upward fretly
Shaking yes but through it all
They hold together wetly
Branches wave their banners green
so many hues and shades and tints
Spring is here and she is seen
Dancing twixt the raindrops
Wild gypsy Wind she sings and swings
Her sylvan winged tambourines
In rhythmic wetness witness
Of the joy she brings and flings
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2005
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