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C B Heath Apr 2013
The windowsill is badly placed; the sun
cannot indulge the speckled flowers. Catch
a ray, my little wilters, hatch
(in some enobled way, you vital ones)
your ancient plan. A blueprint known to man
and woman, aged notions often used
like: getting, knowing, owning, holding. Mused
by scanty winds atop a skyfull.
                               Scan
the skies for faintest glimmers, something clued
inside the trees. But know the placid breeze
has never been against you. Don't fall, please,
into forgetting: every atom's glued
to progress. Nature loves a failed scam.

You orchids catch what little light you can.
6th piece for NaPoWriMo.
David Hall Aug 2015
life is hardly ever black and white
even rarer yes or no
life is
an ocean full of gray
surrounded by mountains of doubt
underneath a skyfull of maybe
Sara Brummer Feb 2019
unless the Presence
reflects the world’s delight,
glad to surprise,
to take revenge on winter
in Sin’s disguise prepared
with monster green
and beauty to surprise
Me, the crocus, when
I choose to rise, and
me, the lark, joined
in every note by any word,
describe a skyfull of
neglected sheep and
of that slimy, frogful pond.
The season’s sound and fury
will not wait to slap
the perfect sting on
Planet Earth.

— The End —