Schemes

Who plants forsythia now? It is not tasteful;
Too ragged, tall, and dull when leaves are out.
But see the sparrows rush into its heart,
Eyes stroke it, raw and golden as a shout.

Alison Brackenbury
Poetry Wales
Volume 41, Number 3
Autumn 2005

Copyright © Alison Brackenbury.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

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