Each newborn leaf a windblown sigh
green with the hope of Spring;
Soon fruit will bond
with limb.

Russet chipmunks
streak the mossy stones
and in the air yellow birds
attend to schedules loosely kept.

They have no fear.
They are free ;
new sun has warmed
their world.

They are busy celebrating,
exploring; content with their intent
to catch the breeze as they reconnoiter
every corner for future berries.

If, as humans,
we must settle for incomplete,
even then, this day
is named Perfection.

Advertisements