The blond-ing rabble make a few flush ruddy
enough to shed hay.
Crowns burning like brand new copper pennies.
Some with flaxen weeping heads,
drumming fingers or knobby sockets.
Spring is like a post-wedding afternoon.
Branches brushed with bursting party poppers,
dabbed and dotted with earlobes and cotton balls,
below bellowing blossoms and star fall paddling in the breeze.
– Rachel R. Vasquez, October 2016
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