TRACES
The warm breezes blow
From the south on my face.
Bringing only quick respites,
Of the Spring’s last trace.
I do long to remain,
In the Spring of the year.
When all is new and fresh,
And the cold disappears.
But oh too fast it goes
And in is ushered the heat,
Of summer’s long days,
And cool breezes retreat.
The birds are still here,
But their tunes not as bright.
They stay in the shade
Until the dew of the night.
Then early mornings again,
You can hear their sweet trills,
As the dawn awakens,
And the brief cool is there still.
Gone are the days,
When you lingered about.
The feel of fresh air
Made you want to shout.
But, I do not fret
Because of the change.
I bide my time yet,
Still enjoying the same.
The miracles of nature,
That always appear.
Upon the landscapes
Year after year.
The weather may differ,
And wane in and out.
But the live things around,
Are there without a doubt.
God in His wisdom,
Gave each his own.
A way to survive,
And have a safe home.
© Shy Barr
June 30, 2006 |
