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Thursday, March 29, 2012

A Time of Budding

Dark skies, waving trees;
Single bird cries faintly;
 What is to happen?
 
No sun in the sky;
Passing car sounds hollow;
Then only silence.
 
 
 Crows are silhouettes
Against the dark rolling clouds;
Breeze has tinge of Spring.
Lone forsythia
Grows alone on bare stalk;
It seems more yellow.
 
Slender small green buds
Spring softly from the thin branch
Asserting themselves.

 
Soon the rain will come;
Sky is dark, the wind is up.
Can nothing stop it?
A time of budding;
Suddenly green leaves burst out
In magician's time.












Through the wall of rock
A thick wide path has been carved
By wind and water.

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