I watched them inch
their way out of the
Day by day the leaves
stretched their arms
embracing a revolution
bulb to stem embracing buds with anticipation
as sun, rain, gentle breezes
of spring burst forth—
the yellow daffodils.
. . .
Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them. —Dennis Gabor
Today’s poetry prompt arrived from d’Verse Poets. Write a quadrille poem using the word revolution.
Revolution has multiple meanings. It may be a forcible overthrow of a government or social order, in favor of a new system, or an instance of revolving.
I took poetic license and considered the amazing changes in nature that happen over the span of only a few days, yet repeat themselves every year.
Fascinated, I watched the revolution from a tiny bulb to green sprouts, tight buds, and finally, a yellow daffodil. Every day, another slight change signaled the eminent blossoming of the flowers.
At first, all you could see were tiny green leaves barely visible beneath the layer of pine needles. Over the next four weeks, nature revealed her handiwork.
I thought of how I often give little attention to this cycle of nature. Years passed when I barely noticed the lively golden flowers showing off along the back of our house.
Oh, the magic I missed, but never again.
I am in awe.
. . .
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