Little Showers (Poem)

Little trickles of tiny rivers,
All droplets falling like a gods thundering laughter,
Frozen diamonds glinting in the dull sun,
These are the first mornings of true Spring.

 

When little mirrors shine the brilliance,
Of the seasons subtlety all around,
Spring is not a warm time,
Spring is not a dry time,

 

She is that slight rosy cheeked maiden,
Embarrassed for wearing a too thin slip,
That keeps none of the cold in,
Promising all with her cheap modesty.

 

And yet her green nature is not meant to excite,
All she does is frolic and play,
The lambs learning and knowing,
That the small sunbeams reflected

 

In the rains eyes, show the first blossoms,
Of this years Rainbow crop.

 

Caoimhín

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