Sunday, April 17, 2016

A poem that I guess is for Spring

Spring (2016)

Our bodies
are vessels of nutrients
for the next generation.
Leaving our minds and souls,
if not spoken or written,
to dissipate as fog
in the summer sun.
are the colors mixing
to a new palette
and style
for which 
the contemporary artist
will record the world.
Dreams are maps
to treasures
or gardens 
behind exposed sedimentary walls
not yet found
under the mud
left each Spring.

-Robert L. Jackson III

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