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8
Mar
2019
On the coldest day of the coldest month ever recorded here in the Okanagan Valley, I caught myself thinking wistfully about spring. Into my mind popped a vision of dew drops clinging to fresh green grass in the morning sun. If felt so attractive I began writing a poem.
dew drop clings to a spiring stem
spherical lens magnifies
nano-scenes within the grass
shivers in a morning breeze
sun yawns over the eastern rim of the bowl of life
overflows
spilling holiness across
a waking world
Categories: Poetry
Tags: dew dawn grass