Gift of Springtime
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Sunflowers blush as petals creep
Along easels of meadow's keep.
Winter's arctic days now long gone,
That morn's fair promise trails upon
Breezes sweet , once an icy blast,
Engrave a kiss on spring at last
Cardinal swoons with trilled refrains
Upon leaves' edges like beaded grains,
For springtime is a godly rite
When heaven molds its prized delight!
.................
for Brian Strand
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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