I came across
lost seedlings,
abandoned
in a musty bin of a garage.
Then heard
a meek mist pleading,
'Oh fern soil, praise them with your yard.'
Douse kaleidoscope
cool droplets,
those days
scorched furnace dark;
And clover cove
when frigid snow
abrades
their glinting spark.
written on:
Feburary 26, 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem