Lightness of Being.

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.

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