I step out for a stroll this spring morning
For a brief time I speak not a single word
nor write one down nor even take note of thoughts
in the journal of my soul
Speechless the clouds are hairy in morn sky
Florescent blossoms mutely hang from branches
like sleeping crowded city under warming sun
Not one of them says a word
Yet there begins a pianissimo sonority
when breeze rubs her palms over luscious buds
Flowerets shake their heads whoosh into corner of dawn
lick zizzing honeybees eager to join the song
As breeze incants louder
hidden amid pink crochet boughs
a bluebird begins her solo not quietly
but forte untamed flute trilling whistling
All at once I want to hasten home
Eager to write a poem of bluebird’s rant
of her wings that expand like an accordion
how my eyes found their way to milky blooms
My every sense rings tingles electric
I hold on to scraps of spring delight
Wonder what words could describe this dalliance
Language is such a delicious tease
