Spring is not vanishing nor dying,Fresh grass reappears in the mossy ravine;There will always be birds in the sky. Clouds do not stop rolling by, defyingThe burst of sunshine above the village green;Spring is not vanishing nor dying. Winter’s cold wounds are slowly dryingWhile butterflies hover over the flowery scene;There will always be birds in ...

Whispering wombs of our mothers where we once swam in amniotic fluid life force like no others   Guided by the lined hands of grandmothers wizened and sharp as a druid Whispering wombs of our mothers   Their love unconditional buffers elixir of life flows liquid life force like no others   Adding brilliant colors ...