I love the smell of the sun on the flowers and how the clouds remind me of pillows for the heads of the pagan gods.
I love how the grass hugs the hills and the way night turns the brightest of skies black.
the trees are taller than daddies in their babies eyes and airplanes in flight remind us of hopeful expeditions rather than nuclear warfare and violent peregrinations.
spring has replaced summer with its green green blankets and clean pristine serene air.
oh how I love the way your skin glistens in the frosty morning. And the echo of the baby birds crying for their newly born mothers and fathers. Sing sing sing says the ring of the wind chimes.
