La Primavera


You appear in the garden

somewhat pagan, poised to inspire.

Wheat from summer’s field

is rolled in your hair.


Your crown of flowers

is at peak bloom, its white bells

pealing the scent

of an awakening valley.


And  if you were to sing,

it would not be words,

but the intonation

of river or stream —


cool water rippling, calling

fish to spawn, saplings to reach

higher and rainwater to nurse

root and vine,  dream and wish

that have been forced to settle



Handmaiden from the bower

of Solomon’s bride or  naiad

from the nearest pool

in Arcadia, what does it matter?


You come to reaffirm life,

return what has been stolen

by ashes and dust. Your head turns south

away from the rude chill;, lilies

with arched leaves dip

into the breath of the beholder.


A lighter sense of being

slips in, giving pure splendor           

to the unseen.


    • Dear Michael,

      I know you are going through a very difficult time right now and I deeply appreciation the time you have taken
      to comment and read my work. I am glad this poem has give you a sense of peace and calm. And moreover, I really appreciate your beautiful comment on the poem’s content!

      Thank you so much;
      I send my prayers to you and your family!

      my best


    • Hi Steve

      Thanks so much for reading and commenting on this poem. I am glad enjoyed reading it and sincerely appreciate your lovely comment.

      My best


  1. Hi Mark

    Thanks so much for taking the time to read this poem and your gracious and thoughtful consideration regarding its content. I am glad you enjoyed it and sincerely appreciate your response.

    My best,


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