Armfuls of Poetry, Drops of Sunshine Sunshine rides on space and poetry on sunshine. Poetry gives birth to sunshine, and sunshine to poetry. Sun treasured in the heart of the bitter melon, poetry made of steam rising from a bowl of soup in Winter. The wind is lurking outside, swirling. Poetry is back to haunt the old hills and prairies. Yet the poor thatched hut remains on the river shore, waiting. Spring carries poetry in its drizzle. The fire sparkles poetry in its orange flame. Sunshine stored in the heart of the fragrant wood, warm smoke leading poetry back to the pages of an unofficial history book. Sunshine, though absent from space, fills the now rose-colored stove. Sunshine reaching out takes the color of smoke; poetry in its stillness, the color of the misty air. Spring rain holds poetry in its drops which bend down to kiss the soil, so that the seeds may sprout. Following the rain, poetry comes to dwell on each leaf. Sunshine has a green color, and poetry a pink one. Be...
