A late spring delight,
The turban-shaped flowers,
Bold and bright,
Enfold memories of Holland;
A single vibrant bloom
In a vase, in a room,
Summons up a multitude
In a foreign field.
In the garden, you stand,
Dull, dry onions in your hand:
Precious jewels
Wrapped in brown paper.
You push them deep
Into the damp darkness
Of the soil
Until spring
When their glorious goblets
Illuminate the day.
Image found on itsi.concord.org
I enjoy reading your poetry and how you see the world around you. Beautiful. Thank you for the follow.
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Thank you for such a lovely compliment 🙂
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