Gifts of Spring
A birthday gift for my sister Angela
It was not by chance
you were born in spring,
when everything soft
and beloved
is in the process of
becoming.
Each thought carries
a glittery shadow,
a subtext,
an infant ghost that
says stop and see what
Heaven looks like,
stop and know what
you've been missing with
all this living.
It was not by chance you
were born in May,
you left God
when the world was singing,
you were moments from Heaven
when the trees were a
a blur of awakenings,
when gifts were lavish
like taffeta rain
and weightless mornings
and a new soul that
outshined them all.
Patricia Joan Jones
To read more of my work go to: My Poetry List
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Gifts of Spring
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