For more than blossoms have I need.
the stirring earth, the burning seed
that lifts into the warming air
perfumed like incense rising there
where laurels take a mountainside
the thunder of the winds swept blooming
fulfilling the fragrance of these rooms
in sleepless shades of layered tunes.
Beauty can fill the sky with light
but not the empty heard when night
has strung a million blooms made
in cradled songs and fragrant shade
beneath the trees and through the eyes
of new found dreams and passing skies.
A beauty rising fills and air
and Springtime lingers everywhere.
