The Transparent Birth (From, Dried Flowers) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The transparent birth of the sweetest things,
That come and goes into the earthy arms;
What to an instantaneous moment brings,
All the perceptive signs and its charms.
The caught and the griping of the blue sky,
In an instant vanishes as it turns;
Open flowing of a dissolving high,
That in the morning with yellow fire burns.
Dawning that opens the beach and the sea,
And gives every wave its glistening pearls;
Diaphanous billows coming discovery,
Whenever a moment in splash-splash burls.
Among the clouds new opportunities,
Constant contrast between immunities.