New And Old

From
My
Morning
Room,
I See
The
White
Iris,
Poised
To
Bloom.
Papery
Husks
Will
Fall
Away
As
Ruffled
Petals
Open
To
The
Day.
Every
Spring
They
Return
When
The
Sun
Breaks
Through
To
Find
Them,
Shaking
Off
The
Dew,
Beauty
Basking
Briefly,
Open
As
A
Lover’s
Smile,
A
Flowery
Kiss,
That
Nature
Will
Never
Miss.