Green And Gold And Spring

It’s such a good
spring day here —

good birds calling,
good shoots

of green, good sights
of people 
on foot,
lightly dressed and smiling

as they see the good gold sun — 

that it becomes
hard to believe

that it’s also spring in places
where the calling
is the sirens

of ambulances,
the people are

heavily dressed in blood,
and the sun

is somewhere behind
the smoke
from a bomb. 

The sky negates
what the air whispers:
that this
could happen anywhere

and everywhere
soon.

In spite of that

I go outside
and plant a seed.

I pray it takes root
and that I live
to see it full grown,

that I live to share
its fruit someday
with someone yet
unknown to me.
On that day

may we sit and speak
of good, of green and gold,
of spring

and how it never fails.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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