Written and posted in April on Facebook:
Trembling
with anticipation
in the April mist
the plump, nut-brown elm bud
asks the quixotic wind
'is it me
you're looking for?'
but the wind
does not hear
suddenly distracted by
a flash of lavender
the wide mouths
the sensuous lips
of a parcel of crocuses
it bends low
to caress their
slender stems
and, with a sigh
as soft and ebullient
as a hallelujah
extract just one
exquisite kiss
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