Down Where The Forsythia BloomsA Poem by Sunflower/Sara KendrickQuatrainDown where the Forsythia blooms Birds of Spring sing a tune Each species calls to its mate Come to me and corpulate
Soon baby birds will give a chirp Begging for the abundance of newborn bugs As the jet streaks across the sky Birds fly across the woods close by
In the window boxes on the porch French Tarragon leaves do sport Six or seven inches high offerings For some meat pie seasonings
The pear is full of tiny blooms Leaves newly sprouting ot springs tune On the horizon in the rising mist Pale pink color of spring's newest dress
Roosters are crowing loud and long Attracting a mate to rear some young It is still cold and getting colder Indoors calls my name bolder © 2010 Sunflower/Sara KendrickAuthor's Note
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