Monday, March 31, 2014

Poem: Early Spring



Ladybug is the first to arrive,
riding a small dimpled hand
up the back steps, as treasure.

Under joyful exclamations
she quickly unpacks her black
silks to lift off, up, and away.

Birds turn empty pages of air,
waiting for bees and butterflies
to bring color, movement and design.

The colony of red ants has pushed
open its rocky doors and is busily
cleaning house and setting up shop.

Coming home late, I fumble in the
moonlight for a key and catch sight of
something fluttering soundlessly past.

It is a tiny, brown moth dressed in the
plainest of gowns and flying quite alone;
this Summer's tapestry has begun.

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