without an uptick of tulips,
azaleas, clematis, and wisteria?
Those pale, green leaves that slowly
open on slender, spreading branches of willow trees,
all harbingers of warmer days?
A writer could wish for
a sudden increase of words to spell
out the rest of her story,
a satisfactory resolution,
no pesky villains,
with the heroine safely home,
perhaps where she wants to be?
Or is the muse waiting
for a downtick of seasons;
when we dread
our darkest dreams?
Today, such a debate doesn't matter,
for the words spilled out just fine,
the story structure shimmers,
and I can yet enjoy this
very sweet and cherished spring.
|Wisteria at Longwood Gardens (Camp 2014)|
Now hop over to that Blogging A-to-Z Challenge to see what everyone's UP to HERE.