In Forgotten Tin Cans

 Filtered light through
Leaves unfurled
Casting shadows all about.
Dancing flowers with petaled skirts
Stretch to be caressed 
By drops dripping from branch to branch,
Limb to limb.

The storm has passed, leaving swollen
Streams to carry seasoned
Leaves away to nourish life
Anew far, far away.

Uncovered in the flood bits of glass,
Broken bottles, their notes of
Desperation gone and lost forever,
And a lone forgotten tin can,
Rusted around the edges, dented and no
Less worse for wear, 
Mired in the muck and mud left behind.
Inside the smell of rain 
Fresh upon the air, escaping
With a sigh to fill the void
Left by fleeting clouds.
Its clean, sharp edges 
Cut through the haze.
It speaks of growth, of life, of forgiveness,
Of love reborn.
A welcome unto Spring.

—Paul Causey

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