Monday, April 30, 2012

The End of April

Firepit ash from a good burn
blows with blossoms in the gusts.

The moment is too gentle
to hold on to things that are
no longer, for the gift of life
is to grieve.


Hannah Stephenson said...

The best spring poems also remember the fall (or the Fall).

Rusty Kjarvik said...

thanks for your humour, you tend to crack my face into a smile like no other, must be the trace of someone light on their feet over a grounding language, perfect embrace with the seasonal impermanence which with fleeting gravity presupposes every step. continue lightly. and step. the fire of creativity does not burn.

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