In Wave of Pink that Smiles in Tender Folds – Sonnet Twenty-Five

In wave of pink that smiles in tender folds,
The softest touch releasing subtle scent
That speaks of open Spring’s most verdant holds,
Intoxicates with heady air’s intent.

A gift that causes hardest wood to rise:
It building well, extending straight to bud,
Now deeper rosette clustered enterprise,
In spreads and sprays, born out in Freya’s flood.

The rain that risen boon so deftly bears,
Though vernal storms may rage and swell against,
Well fought, that brings out wash in full bloom wares,
And rushes forth in other storms’ commence.

How wide the pinky/fuchsia flowers spread,
That Spring storms’ joyous ride and wash give head.