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Here's another poem by my aunt. She was inspired by springtime every year, and this verse is from her early years of poetry-writing. The painting above, was one of a pair done by her husband, which he presented to her in matching gold frames the year before they were married. During the final months of her life, they were brought from her home to her hospital room, and hung upon the wall beside her bed.
Glimpse of Spring
by Veneta Donaldson
Each tiny twig reflects the spring
That haunts each tender, budding bough,
And I, who saw a robin's wing,
Stop not to ponder why or how
But steep my heart in rapture sweet
That grows with every passing year;
And store its beauty to defeat
Those days when sullen clouds appear.