A florist’s dream swept through before the sun Peeked up past the horizon, burning bright: An April shower scouring the night, A soft cascade of blessings set to run Down windowpanes and eaves, down ruddy dun Of brick and craggy stone alike. The sight Of sunrise sets the dewy world alight, Each blossom scintillates, an all-in-one - In gazing into crystal *****, one sees A multitude, a myriad of hopes, A million shrouded possibilities, The fascination of each half-dreamed thing, But in the dawn, my rooftop’s rain-slick slopes, I see the blooms of May begin to spring.