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The Spring Blossoms

The spring blossoms
promise everything.
They deny the knowledge of fall,
of winter,
they
are innocent in the soft breezes.
Like a child the spring blossoms sway
and await the nest.
I am glad to see my friends.
I am glad to have made it through another
winter of
drab hungry sadness to 
meet with the blossoms, to
breathe again the scent,
of spring
in a world which has no sense to 
offer, no wealth of reason
except for my friend, the bumblebee.
We have common friends, he and I.
Together we will visit them
gathering fragrance
and food

. . . . . . . .                                                                                         

Poem by David Jackson   /   Photo by Edy Lou Benjamin   /   to Moongate