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Green Nights of Hope
Springy my thoughts of bunny hops, wiggles
of sunflowers in zephyr sweep. The seeds,
of dust to dust, burst forth in strong giggles.
The progeny of life does pluck grief’s weeds.
Suppose, the sun didn’t shine on yellow highs,
The pierce of thorns didn’t bleed for our rebirth.
The seed just burns…no bonny buds…the sighs
of wings, lifting the rock, thus stopped…no worth.
But, flowers bloom in living hues, refuse
to die without one child. Bunnies succeed
to sire in multiples; of pinks, of blues.
Sunrise lifted the Son, scattered the seed.
Green nights of hope, just sleep, with sun geared up.
Newborns of Spring wriggling whilst we tear up.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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