So much for the last post... haha. This would happen on April 1st too. Thanks, Mother Nature.
Buds recede and browns prevail.
Back to what resisted switching
Climates. Back to dry leaves twitching.
Back to what is four months stale,
Flora scoffs at spring’s first fail.
Early-rising birch trees sweep
To get the new snow off the old.
They feel betrayal. They were told
That their eagerness could keep.
But now they must go back to sleep.
In flake’s pace green decays to sooty
Colors softened, shades of gray,
Thoughts that spring was here to stay.
Outraged guile may be my duty,
But how could I ever hate such beauty?
Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre
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