I say!...There here again, those golden
by Marjorie Dakin
days when our city park faithfully
displays the resisting weak and
weary green to burnt yellow.
I dare say ... it shant last long enough
being as refreshing as spring when
the yellow forsythia startles thought
from the fainting winter.
I alone, weary from a waiting watch
remember the forsythia as a prelude
While the present burnt yellow will
all too soon take its bow before the
looming almighty red and green
of ... celebration.