"The poetry of earth is ceasing never, " chanted John Keats in "The Grasshopper and the Cricket".
Sounds Of Spring
Sounds of Spring filled the air
An old tree filled with new buds creaked
Its limbs slowly swaying
As a silent breeze blew thru the ancient orchard
And now and then a leaf would break loose
And come dancing to the ground below.
Where new blades of grass emerged
Themselves from beneath the white billowy blanket of winter.
As the sun busied itself with the work at hand of the final thaw
And birds and squirrels scampered from land to tree and back
In search of the new season's first fruits.
Here then is Poetry Evolving In Nature as seen through the windows of my yard.
© Milancie Adams 2011
Hammock Corridors (™)