A peom I made pretty much sums it up
Spring
Spring ushers from a land of old sliver maples budding robins bold
For hope there is every spring we native planter's do our thing spring is the season of life
When winters grip looses its stife upon a world dead and dark life will show again to spark
We solumly itch to pull the weed and put to right mans missdeed
That bloodroot shall bloom in a blouvard Glen a symbol of defiance from endarkened men
From those who let their lions ( housecats) out to play tragic and sinful in every way. Born out of a dark inner wild hunting the songbirds of God's love. and in their screams avain blood do stain the earth reminding us of our shame and worth
Or perhaps of a time when man too was wild and wore the skins of a predators child
The spring creeps along the invasive mount too many to pull impossible to count we try and try but in the end it's control for theres always another weed to pull
The poem although dark speeks the truth we can never go back to the way it was before not completely
