Spring Frosting

Frosted silver-blue in spring
ushers in eucalyptus dreams.
I inhale the heavenly possibilities
wafted through my senses
and altering my inner being,
frosting me with the sweet
scents of what can be
and what can never be lost,
centuries of hope long ago
and perpetually seeded
that spring up each annual season
despite the body’s expiration
sacrificed for the birthing
of eternal angel wings.
Every heart’s whisper,
every tear that ever watered,
becomes a part of me,
as I am a part of each,
all of us connected,
evidenced in these
ambrosial eucalyptus
leaves.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

The Gardening

I saw a miracle,
or how a miracle
would be explained
by scientists
ignorantly:

I saw a wish
become a dream,
then belief
birth it into
reality,

deep feelings
igniting all synapses
in a total firing,
a supernova
of the heart,
a soular sunburst
with only doubt
dying,

for when the purest
of whispers
get heard by
benevolent Night,
legend has it
the stardust falls
to earth as seeds
from the sky,

and in the last
of the day’s rays,
Sun conspires
to highlight
the wishie
sent individually
to each to inspire

the closed eyes
and active breath
to start the
miracle process,
as the angels
all about us

continue the collection
and sprinkling,
their glowing silhouettes
sometimes detected
in that golden hour
of gardening.