On the Wings of March

Indian Plum

[su_row][su_column size=”1/2″]A garden walk in early March
We find on paths once dry and parched,
Now soaked; the skies have opened up
And pooled in leaves like a tiny cup,
Soft sponges ‘neath the rain of trees
That drip long after a passing breeze
Has chased the clouds on over.
Drip, drip, drip….

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