This is my Sunday Whirl participation this week. Rather surprisingly, on time. It’s been a terrible beginning of March in this part of the woods, to be honest. No more waiting, here is the pool of words and here is the poem, too.
The spring makes snowy attempts
to be delivered,
tearing cables and posts down
like blasphemy of weather.
A whole land plagued
born to be tossed
We are dreaming of the rustling trees,
of dry grass and sweet air,
that will keep on like that
and yield photos to be envied.
So far, “All hands on deck!”
is the summon spring has for us.
(c) 2015, forestlove
Shared to Sunday Whirl #203, prompt for March 15th.