poetry & things

Wooded pond

I have come to these woods, after the rain

rivulets, sweet where droplets in soul have pooled

where clear water washes away blue

I have come to hear birds in spring

to watch the air of butterflies floating,

newly winged, faceted and sparkling

I’ve come to feel the cool earth, green with leaves

my feet soft upon mossy carpeting

toes intermingled in a fragrant field

cool of hyacinth emerging

in a swirling world, of unfurling fronds

the sun streaming across emerald pond.

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