Source Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

Spring yawns; and blossoms spill into my ear,
as winter breaks the mirror of a tear.
Eyes rhapsodize in piquant shades of blue.
Kisses fall soft as rain in morning dew.

Dawn unbraids luminous hair with a sigh,
bright filaments of light that span the sky;
and molten is the moment of return,
when roses in their whirling start to burn.

On prisms of a rainbow pirouette,
she sashays into golden silhouette
then somersaults into divinest art
as words that woo the poet’s beating heart.

A source of divination born in rows
of silken strokes of poetry and prose,
in the green palm of all eternity,
she is planted that she might flower free.