inspires me to experience once again the child-like
pleasure of seeing the world a new every day as
though it had just been created for my delectation.
The wild wood is my refuge
there I can dream of spring...
the poplars waking early
telling tales in silky voices on the wind
wild quinces bank along the creek, pale green
their blushing buds displaying
while the humble plum, industrious as ever,
is weighted down with half ripe fruit.
Dogroses on the eastern side are tardy in their flowering
while in the west their sisters smile in foolsome bloom.
The hawthorns have tight button-buds,
just one, a little bolder,
has opened up her sleepy eyes
to greet the warmth of longer days.
Dragonflies or damselflies, whatever they may be,
hover over water
thick with frogspawn as a morning frost
with promises of concerts yet to come.
The watchful unicorn , her pride by day concealing,
yet holds the golden key to all our silent dreaming.
generously share and the immense inspiration that you are.
