Mother Nature reclines on a bed of star moss,
and asks her sun to kiss her garden and begin Spring.
Forsythia explodes in starbursts of yellow.
Sleeping stones awaken and begin to sing.
Buds sprout on trees who resume conversing.
Cherry blossoms dance in the breeze—
a red-wing blackbird sings conk-la-ree,
and waits for a thrush to nod in syncopation.
Chipmunks applaud in wide-eyed appreciation.
A cluster of dandelions light up a fading green lawn.
A Dogwood tree warns:
My little red berries are only for the birds.
A bored pitchfork and shovel wait for workers.
Clouds are asked for gentle rain at sunset,
or else, when Father Nature comes home,
they don’t even want to know what he might do.
Mother Nature releases all flowers in her garden
to be in the moment—a place of freedom,
to release their energy and allow them to grow.