04-11-98
the wind rustles the trees, bringing the heady scent
of freshly-mowed grass
just a hint of heather to tickle the nostrils
the flowers are in full bloom, the colors contrasting
with the dark green of the surrounding plant-life
the red roses, so dark that i wonder what makes them bleed,
if their thorns prick even themselves
the brightest of yellow daffodils, as if Ra himself came down to kiss them
the daisies, their blinding white sparkling in my eyes
just a hint of blush on the peaches,
as if they were embarrassed by their more outspoken siblings
a bee, vibrant in his own right, soothes each flower,
speaking to each as if they are the only one for him,
while at the same time tasting deep of the sweet rich nectar the each possess
butterflies swarm, their delicate whispery wings refracting the rich colors of the earth,
teasing their stationary cousins with their freedom
but a butterflies' life is short, inconstant
a flower remains forever
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