Smell the raindrops, feel the breeze, and experience the wrath of a spring storm in vivid detail. A poetical metaphor of commitment to reality in action rather than passive words without substance.

Write Me a Living Picture

The poetry instructor said, "A poem should be concrete. Don't tell me it's springtime. Show me." ...Show me clumps of yellow stars bordering beige and green sculptured shag lawns; bread crumb blossoms highlighting the meadows like reflections of white clouds on a lake; irises piercing the earth with green swords; dried crabgrass crawling like albino spiders captured in the death of winter, resurrected, greening now. Let me walk barefoot through freshly plowed earth, feel it moist and spongy between my toes, shake the soil from clusters of green onions, feel the coolness of an earthworm wriggling in my palm. Serenade me with whispering wind. Caress me with a breeze of feathered dandelions. Tempt me with fragrance of lilacs. Twist the clouds. Churn them in darkness until my world is littered with tree limbs hurled at the waking spiders. Then make me smell the dust captured in raindrops, and kiss me with the sun. Don't tell me it's springtime. Show me. Lord...O Lord, make my life a concrete poem of your love.