Fiddlehead

Love unfurled in me
like a fiddlehead fern
tender and green

And the Spirit of Love
was moving
over the face of the waters

And I felt it skim
the surface, warm spring essence
rippling the cold

And the image
of the spiraled scroll appeared
in my mind, suffused with cello tones

And it, too,
was Love, this warmth, blood
coursing to my toes

And I became
the fern, root and stalk,
your green man.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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