Tender young leaves
grasp at desperation'
the sun over runs
shadows avoided;
let spring’s abundance
awaken
gentle rains
and warm breezes;
fortune fear’s stone
to skip across
tomorrow’s pond
and disappear.
How seasons can change;
how they rearrange
in such cruel deceptions
leads one to wonder ~
is the sun but an illusion?
As unpredictability
drowns optimism,
an early frost
reveals the truth
that rents the root.
















34 old applause
