
the first stars
must have lit up the deep dark
like spring
Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading

the first stars
must have lit up the deep dark
like spring
Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading

on spring’s threshold,
every plant imagines itself green,
I admire their brown
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a rose, bud to bloom,
embraces its beginning
as it unfolds
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remembering peaches,
my daughter’s ice cream cone
melted too fast
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Sometimes I feel yellow,
or slow, green and dragging
or even a rapid-raging red. Continue reading

a delicious layer
of elusive snow,
a shiver of excitement
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inside the poppy,
lies a dark purple pulse
a secret heart
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Winter’s white sleeves
and icy tresses
are absent
this warm winter.
Unexpectedly,
I miss them.
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“Admire as much as you can; most people do not admire enough.” — Vincent van Gogh

unfolded petals
with their high yellow note,
hold the scent of orchards
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like a yellow house on a gray street,
hope shines
through any twilight
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rhododendrons doze
as late leaves burn
inside fallen stars
Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading