To walk among the meadows
and not break out in hives.
To smell the trampled flower
and hope that it survives.
A wisp of cloud beyond the view,
grassy feathers specked with dew –
its name is just a life that thrives.
As sunbeams pour onto the Earth
and springtime has just given birth,
the heart is cheered by time.
Though clouds float on in silent mirth,
they shine with joy’s peerless worth
with wisdom just sublime.
A feather falls as if it flies –
the pull of gravity it flees.
The wind bears it upon its sighs
as the sun smiles on all it sees.