This type of poem (in which the first word is repeated on each line) is called an anaphora.

Because of hawthorn, with its coiled suggestion of pink.

Because light streaks the clouded sky at the end of a day.

Because of the jolt of primrose yellow when a Brimstone passes.

Because the dog curls into a question mark on the unmade bed.

Because of the shock of anarchic purple heather on the side of a hill.

Because of your smile, and the softness of your eyes.

Because of candy striped cranes against a slowly setting sun.

Because of freshly made bread, and the joy of sharing it.

Because of a sudden screech of blue when a kingfisher flies by.

Because of the unexpected thrill of beauty upon hearing music.

Because we are here, now, and because this life is astonishing.