Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Buds poke heavy heads through
rough earth, peer through gaps
in their gentle wrappings like
children around corners or
behind sofas, between fingers.
They waited — obvious mounds
under blankets, feet under curtains,
barely hidden in familiar spots —
gleeful to be sought. Now found,
their laughter blooms sunny yellow.


love notes
a ritual to start the week

Christopher Shepard