March 8, 2024
In Praise of Redbuds in the Rain
Rain swirls in silver currents in the cul-de-sac
the wind pounding to be let in
as it directs winter’s last bare hickory
and oak trees in a frenzied
dance across a stage of gray.
Sunshine is a myth buried behind
swollen roiling banks of clouds
on this late winter morning.
Yet outside the window, past
the feeder, among damp and pallid woods
purple buds shimmer on slender branches
drawing the eye to a respite
of color is a sea of gray mist,
like amethysts on the silken sleeves
of a choreographer.
© Rosemary McMahan
Spirit Reflections 
Without the swirling wind and rain, you could be describing Vancouver this morning! A grey, rainy late-winter morning but the promise of spring is there in our just-beginning red buds and awakening of spring flowers. Oh the beautiful smell of narcissus! Thank you for waking up our senses!! Beautiful poetry 🙏.
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