Special Things (From, The River Sings On) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Reflections, shadows and echoes,
A luminous coal of winter's dark;
Now gone into dawn's new glows,
Its cold blue and frosty spark.
The fixed and empty even sky,
In horizon of yellow and red;
Into the time's of gone echoes fly,
With flowers of colors instead.

The open spring day flashes out,
With the illuminate of special things;
The new all around in a runabout,
This early of happy awakenings.
Floodgates of the open ageless,
Windmills of sounds and bells
All what comes with morning fresh,
And darkness of winter dispels.

Reflections of day in spring's night,
When dark meets the early hours;
Roses of colors that come with light,
In fragrance and beauty of flowers.
The horizon of darkness bonfire,
Turning to yellow unleavened clean;
Hours of old that gave strong desire,
Of summer's evenings yet to be seen.