Hurts Next Spring
she died in spring
she had loved spring
a bird outside my window chats
his tone high and busy
Gloria could tell you his name
garden beds along the front sidewalks
she had many plants, blooming throughout
the first warm days in Michigan
plants with long waxy leaves
light purple bulb on a long shoot
we'd squeeze to hear them pop
if she caught us tampering, her scolding was
a breath of disappointment
tender petals, bruised, shredded
pain
life, beauty, needs protection
spring is too short
Copyright © Ann Copland | Year Posted 2014
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