and post notes and photos about your poem like Janis Thompson.
The tree became reborn when time was right.
At dawn it shed a bud that was blood red.
Upon the moist Spring ground, it stained and bled.
But with the strangest wonder in our sight,
it changed from crimson red to purest white,
adorned like some new bride about to wed
pure milky branches brimming from her head
in magic moments of the gentle night.
The tree became a beauty in the snow.
Yet bravely blossoming in such dire cold.
With crocuses that shivered down below
and tossed their golden heads in waving rows,
as early Springtime life thrives to take hold
and with steady persistence greens and grows.
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2018