THE SPRING GARDEN
The memory of the morning’s heavy downpour clings to the stones.
The garden refreshed by the rain,
A freshly painted landscape.
The air is full of the fluttering of bird’s wings
As they skitter back and forth.
While others perch on branches,
Captivated, as am I
By the simple beauty of my suburban garden.
Their spring songs dance upon the breeze
The scent of lilac ebbs and flows
At once all is tranquil and yet busy.
Unseen tiny animals go about their day,
Burrowing and working
A swallow dips and swoops low over the grass
Summer is just beyond the blue horizon