Sound of Spring

sprout    To hear a poem
Is to know the sound of
The soil warming

In the sultry spring

If you feel the seed
turning inside
outward among

The black womb of
mother earth
Until it splits asunder

The crisp crust,
Insisting its way
Forward and thrust with

Lungs gasping, and leaps
and shouts loudly
In green aspic wakening,

“Here! Am I!”
Then you should know
A poet can learn
A thing or two from a seed.


About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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