Spring contest entry
All winter they slept,
the fingers of their roots entwined,
friend clutching friend.
All winter they slumbered,
sustained by the last of summers' bright syrup.
No wonder, then, with the melting of the snow
their dreams overflow and burst the banks;
No wonder, then, the tightly wound colors of their dreams
slip through cracks of bark,
and slowly begin to open
like yawning springs of the clocks.
Spring contest, host Craig Cornish
Copyright © Jack Webster | Year Posted 2018
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