There was beginning and there was ending.
And the Time between,
when Goldenrods foretold Spring,
when vining green held Winter.
All to be. Yonder. Past the Present...
Ripe tomatos dew dusted,
cradling ice centers...did you see?
Hail, hearted with first morning glories...
were you there?
In the cyclones all around
did you see the picnic ground
awash with blue, red, blankets...
Were your eyes open?
Sight is for the seeing...
Sight is for the blind.
Sight within the Darkness...
Sight to feel that
Seeing is believing.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-spring-of-sight/
