The burst
of the dominating sun
returning. . .
the long ago quenched thirst
of drought-wracked land
with snow and torrents
overflowing. . .
the pink-white petals
their five point, brief-breathed
stars
in chilling temps
with an uncommon shyness forming,
as the upward forces
pushing life
can wash some living ones to death,
as continues
the years’ insistent relentless cycles
which will have their way,
not always even cognizant
of countless beings being born,
and from there, further growing,
and countless others,
entirely bowled over
and,
as will happen
as the course of life unwinds,
for the sad, last passing time,
going.
The Danforth Anchor 