Spring’s Sister

Sweet apple blossoms scent the sky,

Yet a few towns down, fires blaze high.

The scent of fresh fallen rain,

And the fear of a drough once again.

I feel spring in the air,

Her beautiful rebirth is there.

Yet destruction stakes her claim,

Once again.

When I was a little girl.

I picked bluebells in the spring

And had tea parties on gran’s porch.

Free once again

Now I am older,

And longing for spring like fever,

But seeing her sister of war…

Again and once again

I still love spring and her blooms,

The sweet smelling nights

And dawn’s first light.

Pale pinks and blues among

Green growing buds.

But I can’t hide the Smokey skies,

Ashen cities

And hunger cries.

Once again and again