Ferns

ferns
 

The sound arrives
on the tail of rain;
low-level hum
held in fiddlehead cocoons.
 

We listen, rapt,
as tender vibrations
climb velvety stems
bathed in long summer light
 

and as I lay half-curled
in the crook of your smile,
we turn our arms to the sun
and let the newness unfurl.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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