A flower blossoms for its own joy.
Oscar Wilde
My Joy, a photo poem
My joy blossoms in white bridal wreath
greeting my on my driveway.
My joy blossoms in a pottery cup
steaming with a latte.
My joy blossoms with Stella’s sweet voice
saying “E-O!”
My joy blossoms with windchimes echoing
bird songs, Ta-tweet-ting, Ta-tweet-ting.
My joy blossoms on a blank notebook page
writing alongside my students.
My joy blossoms when you smile.
National Poetry Month Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Donna today at Mainely Write.
Reflections on the Teche 