Saturday, April 7, 2012


Just a handful of stems, tightly closed until
I placed them in water, and, as if drawing
sweet moisture through a straw
they burst their tissue bounds and exploded
into bliss, filling the corners with bright shine,
too lush, there in that worn turquoise jug,
to have come from the ground. Surely they were born
in the sky, near to the sun and loaned to me
for a few days of perfect spring,
which I fear will end when the daffodils
are gone. 

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