“Flowers” By Elola Eckford

Rainbows of nature,

The beauty of the green.

Rustling in the wind,

Their buds are at a preen.


Pushing up through soil,

At the start of spring.

Wilting from existence,

That is autumn’s thing.


But not really gone,

Are they in winter.

Life under the snow,

Found by the clever thinker.

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