Poetry: Metamorphosis

Meta­mor­pho­sis
–May Sarton

Always it hap­pens when we are not there–
The tree leaps up alive into the air,
Small open para­sols of Chi­nese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always man­ages to get there first.

Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stir­ring in the emp­ty air,
Look up one day through a dis­solv­ing screen
To find no star, but this mul­ti­plied green,
Shad­ow on shad­ow, singing sweet and clear.
Lis­ten, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!

Cur­rent Mood: 🙂full
Cyn is a proud Mommy & Mémé, professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
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