April Gale Poem by Heidi Mordhorst
April Gale
Oh, how the wind howls,
howls the blossoms from the boughs;
Oh how the boughs bend,
bend and willow to the ground;
Oh, how the ground wells,
wells with blossoms blown to hills;
Oh, how the hills sound,
sound a whisper pink and loud.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
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4/29/2024 6:56:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
