Saturday, March 28, 2009


The rain paused.

A blanket of mist hovers, softening the pink sunlight.

The boughs overhead heavy laden, dripping with blossoms and buds and fat raindrops.

The Wisteria nods to the Magnolias while the Pansies and Violets tinkle laughs from below.

The air thick with humidity and the sweet perfume of Spring.

And I listen to the choir of birds and squirrels and the breeze through the leaves.

Top photo: My backyard this morning at sunrise
Bottom photo: The Wisteria in my backyard this morning, digitally altered to a watercolor--it's prettier if you click on it


  1. Oh the smells, sites and sounds of Spring. It will be another month before it will happen here. We still have snow on the ground. I planted a Wisteria vine five years ago. It grows bigger every year but has never blossomed. Maybe this will be the year.

  2. did you write this poetry yourself? once i know, i can comment.

  3. Yes, I wrote it.

    If I steal something from someone else, I'll always give credit.


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