Frank, hosting dversepoets pub today has an excellent prompt about prose/poetry. Haven’t a clue what is what, but it seems that I have been writing this stuff anyway. Probably because I don’t know what formal poetry actually is. Come over to this site for the great poetry that this prompt is sure to gather.
The plums are blossoming…tender little white flowers on 5 year old plums. They should be later but this weather is crazy. Yesterday 80 degrees! Today, 49 and a brisk wind. I thought we were over Winter, it seemed never really to jell, but it’s back or will be in the next few days with below freezing temps. I see my French Breakfast Radishes have peeked above the soil, but they are hardy souls so the freezing temps to come should not hurt them.
The light is so tender, gentle. The swirling pollen will cover everything with an acid green/yellow soon, and already I am feeling the allergies.
Spring is a taunting maiden, blowing in with great promise and then disappearing at will. Once the Earth pirouettes, this game will be over.
Plum Blossom Snow
The present snowstorm of
White plum blossoms
Blinds me to sorrow.
They cascade over cheeks
Like perfumed, satin tears,
Too warm with the promise of life
To chill flesh.