First Spring
Just when I thought winter rains would never end,
The Acasia starts to bloom,
The tiny little pollen puffs,
Like little sparks of gold.
The low laden branches swaying over the swollen creek,
As if dancing to a dreamy tune,
Enchanted with its own perfume.
(by Madeline Kudritzki, age 11 - 1998 River of Words Contest Finalist)
More Later...
