Spring kisses the sycamore outside my two story window. Armlike branches stetch after a long wintry sleep. Manicured fingers of green point toward the sun - it's an invitation to magic. The ravens come, inviting themselves without any shame. Six caw in chorus; a rainbow of music resounds. There is no dissonance when Spring conducts her symphony - and when the ravens finish, they flutter away, leaving the branches to click in ovation.
Reason for writing:
I was teaching a 9th grade English class that poetry can be found in any moment...just as I said those words, the ravens appeared and gave us this poem. It was magic...and my students finally understood.
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