Your notes burst forth in joy and marble through
the morning air. I catch them in my net
of just-awakening... I need to keep
the tones of their harmonic healing near.
Then later, when my day is taut from strain,
I'll bring them out again. I'll roll their smooth
striations through my mind and bless you for
the gift you so exuberantly share.
Pink-aproned dawn has flexed her fingers,
gently kneads the supple sky;
the drowsy earth begins to waken,
gives a warmly-crusted sigh.
The pine trees peel their fresh aroma,
thinly slice each pungent hue;
the roses sprinkle sugared fragrance
over grasses splashed by dew.
The cinnamon chirps of chickadees
are sifting through the rising air,
and day is bustling in the kitchen
with a menu to prepare!
Beside my cushioned wicker chair,
pink roses wend their tendril grace
along the fence, their eager leaves
in quest of further rambling space.
My coffee steams in fragrant swirls;
I sip its pungent, deep-hued shade,
watch butterflies take silent dips
in blossoms tastefully arrayed.
By mossy rocks, through grassy roots,
a host of tiny, scurried shapes
run morning errands...senses tuned
for pouncing foes and quick escapes.
A soft, celestial peace descends
in ripples, clear yet undefined;
like heaven-dew that trickles through
each thirsty crevice of my mind.
Veined with velvet threads, your gentle stance
belies the strength of flexing cells that hold
your sway against the wind's careening dance
and brace when raindrops pelt their pounding cold.
Exquisite tints! As sunburst ribbons fall,
new puffs of rainbow harmonies emerge.
Your sweet secretions waft a mystic call
and tiny wings adjust their eager surge.
Enchanted, we direct with cunning ploys
your hybrid trail of destiny (as though
your purpose is to cultivate our joys)
and smugly bask in glories you bestow.
Yet we did not begin the lines you trace;
your humble nods pay homage to His grace.