The Magic Touch

The Magic Touch

In the middle of April
In “the North”
Crocuses and daffodils–
Confetti-like pops of color
In somewhat frozen fields of
Still-dead-brown fallen leaves–
Appear unannounced
All willy nilly
As if a whimsical wizard
Blithely skipped through
Touching his wand
To the ground
At promiscuous intervals
To surprise us from
Our end-of-winter gloom
“Feel the magic!”
“Enjoy the show!”
They tease our
Slumbering souls
And besotted by
Bits of beauty
We begin to
Peek through, too!

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