February

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February

Lone zombie-tree in the pasture sings
Lullaby for the cows gathered round,
Metal sky sprinkle ice seeds over the dry
Weeds asleep, whispers:
“In spring this will do wonder.”
North wind claws at the hunched
Backs of the creatures
Learning to take the most of
One another’s body heat like
Warmth of Mother’s womb.
She throws her toughest test.
With no complain,
They huddle tight
To keep the hearth within,
Comply and wait
For the golden sunbeams
Caress the frozen bodies,
For the pasture awake in the green sea,
For the tree revives in pink bloom
Flirts with breeze sweet passing by.

©Byung A. Fallgren

America Beautiful, Lost Muscle

America Beautiful, Lost Muscle

She’s a blurry-eyed beauty
Believes in what she does.
She tosses a crown to
A dubious one,
Watches it unfolds wings,
Anxious to see
The strange creature
Fly amok in the world.
She shudders, bewildered, with her
Acumen buried in deep within.
Someday she may recover
Her lost muscle; she will
Rise again as
The true beauty admired by all—
Is this a tough dream to bloom?

©Byung A. Fallgren