Spring Comes

Spring Comes

The air feels suddenly as if it’s taken a warm bath and not yet
towel-dried.  Your skin wants
 to roll around with that air, your skin feels wanton—
it will do almost anything
with that air,

like the tree frogs that now wheedle
from the woods, so anxious
to be chosen—
take me, take me, me, me—


Here’s a very little poem for April 14. As always, pic and poem are mine; all rights reserved. Have a good day!

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2 Comments on “Spring Comes”

  1. Helen Says:

    LOVE this, Karin!

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