the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

Upon This Spring Morn

by Tucker J. Collins

how many questions must arrive
who upon the earliest to rise
found no falling leaves or scents of such
but the sweet odors of nights dewly dust
the spring has returned with no flower
but beautiful none the less

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Published: October 3, 2009

Filed Under: poetry

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the sieve and the sand

Upon This Spring Morn

by Tucker J. Collins

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