alfazha

Georgia’s spring flowers blossom and shiver in the cool morning breeze,     Swaying while whispering in its partner’s ear.           Each seeks a warm mate to share its secret decrees     As petals spread wide to admit the dewy stamen of its dear. Roses, now florid, blush a deeper red at its neighbor’s glee,    Telling all without aid from the busy bee. Beside them strange machines melded heave and churn in low hum       While their skinny gears mimic the language of the flowers’.      Rhythms mingle as the sound flows, Flooorum.       Some from the north bend over and feel the machine’s powers  Bu