soon there will be robins
darting across the yard
stopping, cocking their heads
before pouncing
and pulling another worm from the soil
fresh new poppies are pushing up
among the brown stalks of last year
cloud shadows come and go
playing lazy light games across the new grass
the clouds merge
light dims
it smells like rain
a perfect day to muse, to dream
to banish the cries and clamor
that robs us of ourselves
