Spring

 

Birds chirp in the trees overhead,
Congregating on one, then the next.
Trading stories of hunger and fear,
Envy and rage, love and joy.
I lay in the waving grass below
And lose myself in their chattering music.

White magnolias and cherry trees,
Like bright clouds on the ground,
Lift my eyes up through their branches
Into the gray-blue skies above.
Petals float past me weightless,
Magically freed by the slightest breeze.