The Spring life

Spring is a month unto undivided by colour

to untie the skies with a fragrance of flowers

and there grows the moths sillyly nibbling at dawn

And the dusk is a flower-pot in which to arrange the hues

of the Upper house of God to array  the lines of flowers

where randomness is the cue for the cure of the decimated leg

upon which the earth stands

and the earth is a pillage of matter in space, as a pale blue dot

emerging to decorate the house of God yet undivided and

easy to meld with the fragrance of Spring,

the undisputed rector stands tall in God Himself



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