Verse
April Thoughts
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Sticks, leafless and devoid of life, turn into the overflowing, yellow glory of the forsythia.
Granby Drummer (https://granbydrummer.com/category/the-arts/verse/)
Sticks, leafless and devoid of life, turn into the overflowing, yellow glory of the forsythia.
When did it happen? I surely don’t know
But honestly it distresses me so.
I look in the mirror and what do I see?
Certainly no one that looks like me!
The winter snow, slippery ice, bitter cold temperatures, and wind chills are gone.
We gather on the green, the sidewalks, and the roadways to honor and remember those who died in service to our country.
Watching the birds on a snowy morning
They come and go without any warning
Nibbling and fleeing, as flighty they are
Running away, but not very far.
February’s bitter cold keeps me inside this snowy winter morning.
Yet outside, my friends, the birds and squirrels wait for me.
Oh, the sounds that graced my ears
From childhood and beyond,
The memories they often stir
Seem sometimes all but gone.