Great Regulars: I was aware of all

of us sharing a similar appreciation, as if all of us were silently creating the same poem of praise for all we were seeing, a collective ode for spring. I woke up the next morning and wrote this poem.

When The Word Went Out
[by Elizabeth W. Garber]

from Elizabeth W. Garber: Village Soup: A Year of Poetry from a Wealth of Maine Poets: In the time of yellow, blossoming

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