Minnesota grass, slept for winter,
revived this spring with forcasts of 40,50,60 degrees,
it bounced back, at last returning to green
Then winter makes one last try,
turning all from brown and green to white.
But ultimitly, spring reappears, but winter's last attempt has hit reset,
the grass once again brown and yellow, unkempt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful piece of poetry, well articulated and nicely encapsulated with conviction. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing, Oliver. Remain enriched.