Dogwood Pond
By James Edward Webber
Day dawns, and light streaks over the Dogwood Pond
Light dapples on a pillow of fallen leaves, Brown,
Tinged yellow and rich, red orange.
Whip O Wills calls winter out of its hiding.
Frost comes to cool the earth and start her rest
Her blanket pulled up close about her neck.
A blue northerner blows about and hovers over the land
Dogwood Pond sleeps with only a thin sheet of ice.
Now Comes Spring, seeds leave their winter tombs
And wrap themselves in shades of yellow green
Jonquils nourish at the water’s edge
Joined by the purple lilies and early rush
While Mourning doves strut and coo
With branch and leaf to build a nest
Earth revived, renewed by rest, she stretches forth.
Redbuds break and lead the way with dogwoods close behind.
A portrait like no artist paints, of wondrous sights and sounds.
From a pallet only God can mix, a mix where Beauty abounds.
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