Flowers Wild
The rains bring forth a blaze of flowers wild:
a royal catch, an iron weed,
a color shower.
Wild blue, the flox; gold ticks from seed,
dainty bluebells ring out the hour.
In winter’s grip no longer domiciled,
arranged according to a plan
unknown to man
that shouts with glee that spring has reconciled.
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for the Spring Rhyme Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
written on 05/01/2022
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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