I THINK “JEWS” IN THE THIRD LINE, REFERS TO “JUICE” IN THE MIDST OF A MASTERPIECE, SOMETHINGS CAN’T BE IGNORED! SORRY MAN!
Sprang open Spring a box of rainbow rains,
And Summer rains led to your gold grains;
Jews oozes from your yellow, mellow grapes,
You play a kingly show with curvy shapes.
Morning mist floats, dancing through trees;
Fragrance of fruits sails, prancing in breeze;
Bees buzz and birds hum, granting us bliss,
And night flurry flows hissing me with a kiss.
Fall, after a great rise, comes a worst fall,
And shows your fall my mirror on the wall;
Green turns into gold and now into grey;
I hear a grown-up lamb’s cry from the brae.
Copyright © September 14, 2020, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay
