"redbuds" poems
The limbs of weeping willows,
Hang over the redbud trees.
Pink flowers on the redbuds,
Are ones that are real beauties.
As gray clouds are divided,
The sunlight, makes its way through;
The leaves then lean toward it,
As nature intends them to.
As wind whips limbs and branches,
Redbud petals whirl in air,
The ground will have a carpet,
Of pink near the village square.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
It is all too loud
and I am crawling into myself
and I am bowing my head
and I am leaving now
The light, two redbuds, and your moss covered roof
take me home
take me to the light
where the grasses hug your toes and the flowers glow like sunshine
Pieces of canyon, ivy, the woodpecker’s holes
It is soft there, I am no longer afraid
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC
day after gloomy day
black and gray clouds
smudge and smear the sky
rain followed by mist
and then more rain
the streams are choked
with mud and debris
autumn grasses bow down
in sodden ranks
water drips from trees and eaves
just a few weeks ago
the earth was cracking
confused by the change
redbuds are blooming
and amid the tangle
of mottled leaves and
slick black branches
plum blossoms are opening
I lean in trying to detect
the lush fragrance
but the sky opens up again
and I splash back through the garden
my clothes are soaked through
spring will have to wait
Tom Spencer © 2018
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC