Under The Blue

Under the blue,

we breathe the springing onset.

New has arrived,

and we miss what we’ve met.

 

Songs of the season–

the rustling of tree.

The voices of organic life.

The sorrow we see.

 

Sun shines on opportunity–

our lighted ambitions.

Darkness hides our intent–

impeded positions.

 

Standing firmly in the rays

of exuberant determination,

under the blue,

in His creation,

we fail to examine

the beauty of season.

We’d much rather focus

on defeated reason.

 

The warmth of the Spring

caresses our cold existence.

We miss it all

in our self-made persistence.

 

 

 

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