Shine, by Britta Benson

I was playing around with poetry this morning, sitting in my garden. Here’s the result. A poem in three haiku. Why not? Or should the true question be: What else?


The dance of sunbeams:

this gentle, silent battle

on drawn swords of grass.

Green eyes awaken,

broken hearts, still sleepy, grasp

dawn’s invitation.

Watched by seagull’s wings,

applauded by butterflies,

souls open once more.

Britta Benson

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