Newsletter

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes

“Which seed shall prosper thou shalt never know.”

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;

Gold as an infant’s humming dream,
Stamped with its timeless, tropic blush,
The steady sun stands in the air

Blossom the magician transformed
winter’s curfew hours
into foaming white petals

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;