A glimpse of  heaven in a drop rain,
Emerging spring buds straining to burst free,
At first, I only see the the snow’s remains,
Yet, as I think upon it, more I see.

A drop of rain, a grain of sand, a breeze,
We oft o’erlook the truth before our eyes,
Brushing past, intent on seeking ease,
And missing the profound truth, in disguise.

Delving deep beyond the dampened scene,
 As globules cling to branches, tenuously clear,
Reflection of our thin reality,
Magnified, surreal, contained in sphere.

It’s nearly Spring, red buds are straining free,
As nature turns, my thoughts return to thee.

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