The sun surprised the plants every where
Redbuds eagerly flashed purple residue on the bark of surrounding trees
Roses swelled with secrecy

The ground, though, hard with thirst
Farmers scratch around
It was slow at first
A couple restaurant conversations
Then it made the radio
Finally the television
A drought had struck spring

Your daffodils ever so slowly wilting
Your trees lightly budding
Your grass green

Well I mean there has to be an exit hole some where?
Like a blister with a bunch of fluid and enough pressure
Guilt looks at the pin