Oh, crop!

By iShoot

Behind the shadows.

Hidden within the shadows of night
Poets by the dozens begin to write
Pens, the paintbrush of imagination
Blank paper, a canvas of creation
Verses in rhythm, a rhyming scheme
A poet's life, a written dream
Seeking the light, souls revealed
Sharing of poetry, once concealed

James & Marie Summers



Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass--innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.

Source: "Leaves of Grass," by Walt Whitman

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