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.