These pools that, though in forests, still reflect
The total sky almost without defect,
And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,
Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,
And yet not out by any brook or river,
But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds
To darken nature and be summer woods-
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday.
Spring is too much admired! I agree Robert! Ha ha
I much prefer Autumn.
But Spring comes, and with it,
buds and blooms.
We'll get through this rollick.
Then once again, we'll settle
into what suits us best.
Autumn! Leaves falling, and loss.
Just how can you write or speak of
anything when Spring breaks?
It takes your breath away.
Such promise. And in your hand, undeniable!
But soon, soon the leaves will change
their color, and dry up, and reveal
hidden secrets. Red, yellow, orange,
brown, and then black!
Just how can one cry when
lilacs bloom, and the crocus pops
its' joyful little head up from the dark,
Time will pass. This "Spring" will
burn into Summer's heat,
and the smile of life will wilt and
Then we will relish cooler climes!
Then we will remember.
When all color has faded and
turned to ashen hues and bare limbs.
(Just thoughts brought on by a poet)
Thread: More to my liking!