Fairies' Brooms

 I love to see spring come, but I get a liitle sad when one thing leave us, and I'm waitng for another to come,so I wrote this poem and it cheers me.



                         The petals from the apple tree
                            float down creating a flurry
                               of scented snowflakes
                         to be shoveled up by fairies,
                            or, at least, swept aside
                                with their dried Queen
\                        Anne's lace brooms.
                              I stand in the scent
                                 of lilacs and newly
                          cut grass to watch
                              what seems like magic,
                                   but reality keeps it
                          from being.  As the breeze
                               dies down, I turn for home
                                   where I have chores to be done.