A new poem for you today, born of my musings on the beauties of spring and how my heart always turns to Robert Frost this time of year. Happy Poetry Month!
Come join me in the land of Spring,
where tulips play a fanfare on the trumpet,
a field of blue flags is unfurled,
and the dogwoods are yipping and barking.
Looking as though his heart might melt,
Mr. Frost was given the key to the city,
a key as emerald as the grass where he stood:
poet laureate of all that’s green and fair and good.