Nature comes of age
these springing days.
She fills out
and shouts,
glad and flowered.
She makes a daisy chain,
young still,
while wildflower splashes are her lashes,
and river-lined poppies her garland.
She sighs
these nights
for there will be
warm rest on her
soft breast—
and the air is fragrant
for she breathes—
this light breeze
that blows through
these now unseen blooms.
Nature Comes of Age
by Troy Cady
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