Spring By Water

It's night and whitened blossoms start to fall
and strum the surface of these star-lit pools.
The moon recruits a lute from music hall
of water. Shore with silver reeds and fool's
wide, lunar touch whisper to lull willow
and flute melody nearly silently.
Petals unrecalled fall to wet pillow;
and tree forgets, bereft non-violently.
So Spring appears like Autumn's pull on leaf
that dirged the Summer's music down with Fall-
Released with moon-ghost motion weeps no grief
in seasonal, strategical withdrawal.
The blossoms seem old tunes of leaves that flew;
each bloom soon dies in symphony anew.

by Glenn Bagshaw

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