This time the wind is playful
Cuddling
Not a sign of sadness in his
Tender touch
Whispers, soft and gentle from the new leaves are
the rumours of a spring infesting the blood streams with dreams and desires
Green madness in all the trees
Olympic hormones fighting
To conquer what is left of your sanity
Soon the pink fury of the cherry blossoms
will get us all to lose the sense of orientation
Each street will be a pink sonata
Each street will be washed by the warm winds
Each street will be melting its asphalt under the soft petals of the maddening trees
This time the wind is playful
Cuddling
The spring orchestra started its concert
A haunting,plaintive quality suffuses this hymn to ennui and existential entropy. Borges,undoubtedly would also approve.
Thank you so much, Louis Kasatkin!!!! You spoil me as usual!!!
An excellent, vivid, and sensuous poem .
Thank you, my kind friend!!! Most honoured!!!
A fitting song praising nature at it’s best.
Thank you, my kind friend!!!