IF, AT FIRST, PROGRESS RECEDES

If, at first,
progress recedes
pick yourself up,
remount your horse
(of course, of course),
and RIDE, RIDE again!

That’ll take you back
in the swing of things
especially when,
the wet storm threatens,
and light-weeping rain
kisses your cheeks,

and you feel the wind
affronting your front
like airy breaks
slowing you down,
as your lips spread a smile,
for you’re feeling no frown,
as the moody spring storm
blows on in.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Spring and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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