Hopefully you’ve all been enjoying some fine spring weather. Today, David Hanlon makes a welcome return in this joyous season and invites us to write about beginnings, renewals and resurrection.
This life is made of fence and brick;
warped and crumbling.
The late February sky, malaise-packed with heavy clouds,
has finally cracked.
Trees are worn, satchel brown, licked with ochre and rust,
by nature’s wonder-burnt tongue.
The musky scent of wet wood, permeating.
The red-orange flare of a robin, flickering.
But look, lilac crocuses,
petal pincers, sprouting in clusters,
like tiny feet,
magic circling tree roots,
their amber stamens,
David Hanlon is a confessional poet from Cardiff, Wales, now living in Bristol, England. He is a Best of the Net nominee. You can find his work online in over 40 online magazines. His first chapbook Spectrum of Flight is available for purchase now at Animal Heart Press. You can follow him on twitter @DavidHanlon13
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