The bud stands for all things,
Even for those things that don’t flower.
For everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing
Though sometimes it is necessary,
To reteach a things its loveliness.
To put a hand on it’s brow
Of the flower,
And retell it in words and in touch
It is lovely,
Until it flowers again from within,
Of self-blessing.
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Spring by Silver Dollar
The Spring iz here,
The grass iz riz,
I wonder where the boidies iz.
I bet the boids iz on the wing,
But that's absoid,
The wing iz on the boid.
(Apologies to Mr. Kinnell, et al.)
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