Behind the Spring

Morning grows on needs of the day The Sun glistened By the fields of hay In the Dusting Of the Springtime Sweet Scented Thoughts Of Yesterday The blossoms of which the bees cared Now wilted and dried when sun scarred Was it there where Your fossils lay Imprints on dust have come to stay As I look for The idling weeds Amongst others with Lesser needs The brooming makes a dancing pose Making dust of the fallen rose That once adored a damsel's hair Before cold made The woods go bare