An Early Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,
The joyful prelude,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the morning dew,
Half clothes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The twitter of waking birds
Up from the embrace of gathered fronds
Is livelier than any dreams

A tree beside the meadow stands bare,
But the promise of a leaf springs green,
Contented, I sense, by my thought,
Inches softly toward the dawn.

I leave the past swiftly
By picking the brightening blue
Fading in with the first rays
To carry again to you

By Mary Sun

Spring is less than six weeks away!