Spring Time

by Mark

A first of many more collaborations by both bad writers:

Spring called for celebration
and all the mothers loved
their children.
No burning, burdened gates
to close
Only, the pinpricks
of sprinkling sun-showers

Squishy dew grounds
As, flowers bloom
Whispering with full eyes
Engulfing sun rays, set
To synthesize the growth
Of children.

Under the moss,
Turned the worms and maggots
And all the mothers
loved their children,
Carried them, wet, across
the bridges, clopping and clicking
from sunshine to moonshine, and all
The fathers hid
In the pastures, where they knew
they’d never look

Keen memories,
winters Lament,
as father and children
Pasteurize  milk for
mother’s sun-lite
brunch. Bellowing of dogs
and cats, as the sun sets;
spurts of breeze tuck in all-
mothers, fathers, and children
all newly  spring time awoken.

By Him & Her