I will celebrate this day

under the moody sky

looking at the yawning flowers

watching the doubtful birds fly

 

I will not unearth

any of those wonderful things

letting things be

as the Church bells ring

 

The rolling hills

challenge my eyes to wander

the light breeze kissing the grass

as I begin to hum, in senseless maunder

 

I have no answer

or questions, for that matter

as I look at the town’s waking lights

no destination within the coming clatter

 

I look and think

of what might be mine

but maybe all of it is

in this wondrous miracle of rhyme

 

I mark my spots, claiming

by saying I love them

I will be back again

strumming the music, of each stem