My first geranium blossom started me out on an ode to spring:
Warm, bright, in wisdom,
nature signals it’s time for love
even in cold rain.
Then turned unutterably sad:
Will they never bloom
nor feel another spring rain;
so young now, lives crushed in mud.
Life begins, life ends, but not in a natural course.
~~~
Sadness for the lives lost in the Parkland school shooting.
After I published this post I changed the title to “Beauty Crushed in Mud”. I will probably continue working with this subject.
Read more: Essays ♦ Short Stories ♦ Poetry
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