She Whispers Her Beautiful Scent, a poem

 

Spring was born

to disobey the winter

where curled leaf

begets new form

and silent shadows

beneath the leaning trees

now creep with promise.

Their breath reeks of

growth

and birth

and quiet longing.

You hear not

the stretch of leaf or stem

but when you pause

in the stillness

you can see it.

Each day,

a different dance

and the earth no longer

holds the same pose

but whispers her beautiful scent

and we are not the same

we are not the same

save those

who refuse to see.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: disobey