Printed from WriteWords -


by  James Graham

Posted: Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Word Count: 78
Summary: Spring's nearly over, but here's a Spring poem.

It was the killing time. Upon
young dandelions, nettles, buttercups, I poured
a terrible rain. Aspiring leaves
became slate-grey, and failed,
and fell to earth. The chosen
tulips and crocus prospered as they should.
But one day, after a night of rain,
out of this plain of death, this poor
afflicted piece of earth,
it had grown: a single dandelion head,
a golden disc, a little sun,
proud as an Easter lily,
saying, ‘It is Spring’.