In spring the wind will rustle And old leaves will tussle Over the still bare ground The smell of decay all around Once when things started to thaw Then the smell of apple blossoms is raw Filling the air, swirling around as one Tinges of pinks and whites are spun Where new leaves and light begun To sparkle like jades and jewels I wait for those first orioles And their short little chortles Chirps and quick eyes as they hop From branch to branch would plop Pecking away at some unseen pray Flying so effortlessly for awhile Makes me marvel in triumphant style
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Posted: Feb 2020
About this poem:
Visions on a mountainside meadow during a spring day in New England
Very nice right Yankee. My senses were able to capture some of your beautiful descriptions if only in my mind. Spring in New England should be so unique. Thanks for sharing. SM
Comments (3)
We must also think of allergies when trees blossom.