As snowdrops polyp
To first pure light
I ponder on the feeling
Of sunshine in its newness,
Its pleasure upon my face
And its gentle touch of warmth
Upon the tentative ground.
All the sleeping things beneath,
bound to bulb and dormant root:
Life’s energies encapsulate.
Universes yet to be and
To-yet unfold. Every single one
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
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