A MORNING IN SPRING

Mornings unfold

so tenderly these days.

White linen gentle against the skin,

the glorious light

caressing the face.

The sun forms puddles of light on the floor,

where, as we speak, the birch tree outside

is in the midst of a bout of fervent shadowplay. 

I think the seasons 

have a stronger effect on me

than I care to admit.

The spring sun has brought along

an ease, a joy,

a lease of oxygen in the lungs,

a restless itch under the feet.

Within these thick, stone walls,

roses cultivated to perfection quickly wilt

- outside, under the golden rays of the sun

& passing showers of rain,

wildflowers flourish & weave their carpets.

x