The train of late night storms left the valley in tatters –
the last of the spring blossoms
lie scattered beneath the trees.
broken twigs, dark and wet,
point toward rose petals
floating still in shallow puddles.
The smell of Earth
rises with the sun
and the grass seems greener.
Golden rays shine on swollen buds
illuminating the promise of new adornment.
The rain has come
With clear eyes,
I can see once again –
tempered by the tempest.
swollen buds and the promise of new adornment! so beautiful! stoppin by from the link up :) http://simplyhelpinghim.blogspot.com/
the tempest has oh-so-great a power to completely transform the landscape, both inside and out!
"Tempered by the tempest." Yes, so often we are, aren't we? I really like this rich little piece of poetry. I hope you keep posting more poems.
Lovely Poetry Lettie, glad to read you again dear. I missed you words. xx
Love this so much, Lettie. So deep and rich with layers of meaning.
Thanks everyone. You kind words are always very much appreciated. With all the storms coming through lately (we even had hail yesterday), I'm hoping to find some inspiration for dryer metaphors. ;)
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