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In Memoriam of a Pond Who Still Gives Life (Late to the spring poem prompt party)
no one knows you're still here
underneath this lush lupine
those fireflies, last evening
hovering, flashing lights
where dragonflies used to dart
catching water-bound mosquitoes;
they had no idea
nor does toddler picking flowers
i was once like her,
but picking cattails
before time turned you into rich meadow
Spring
Yes, like seasons changing, landscapes. As if cold concrete can replace warm memoried youthscapes. The earthscapes evolve naturally or with artifice, still time and toddlers, flowers vs cattails - it works for me as an ode to spring. Thanks for responding to the call out. Appreciation is warm.
~S~