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
Topic(s) of this poem: pink
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8/27/2026 10:43:42 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
