Wind buds

The wind has picked up

Spring and carried the scent

Of a freshly opened golden

Chersonese to a rose bud’s

Bidding. I am no longer

Just a watcher at the window.

Instead I dally in minute

Moments of growth, burrowing

My mind in this perfumed

Grove, far away from time.

 

 

Copyrighted by the author

 

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