Gardener at Heart - Book Two

Zephyr


I waited where a path went up a bank,

Around a boulder, up into the green;

The air was the best wine I ever drank,

As morning raised the curtain on the scene;

Above, a robin, pleasingly rotund,

Was harvesting some lichen for its nest,

While jays pretended, imitated, punned,

And sober sparrows fell for every jest;

I waited, and I saw a fern-seed wind

Come down the path, glad-handing all the plants;

It glided up and kissed me, then it grinned

And vanished, while my heart kept up the dance...

     These small epiphanies were anti-gray

     And luminized an ordinary day.


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