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#springpoetry
The month of May — oh, may I say — Holds an ambiguous kind of sway. The summer sun can sometimes stay, Or rain may fall and never stray. It sounds like fun to bathe in light, But when the splash hits, takes its flight, It shifts the mood, no end in sight, Yet still, we chase the warm delight. It may be all safe and sound, But may not always stick around. You can’t deny the changing tune, For weather shifts from sun to moon. So swallow hard and step outside, Prepare to face the crying sky. Yet when the rain falls down to play, Its scent can take you far away. The feel of drops upon the skin, To cleanse the sorrow buried within. The joy of flowers in the showers, Though May’s soft grace may not be ours.
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Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 3:31 AM UTC
When may speaks
I saw them growing In the damp squelchy soil Soaked and sodden With the rains that fell Over winter At first they shot out of The ground Green shoots unseen among The green grass But upwards they jutted Reaching into the sky as much As such things could Exploding into blooms of yellow Leaning over like bells Ringing out in peals of colour The joyous celebration we all Waited for eagerly Through the darkness of winter "Spring is here at last- ah Spring is here at last"
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Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC
Daffodils (For Rebecca Keatley)