I walk, through grasses green and brown,
the newly blooming colored flowers.
A few more hours still until noon.
Cool wind as I see the lagoon.
The winding trail brings me closer,
plants coming to life with spring,
Here on the edge of the river,
there’s less of the wind’s shiver.
Not quite warm, but tucked away,
I skip rocks on the beach for a while.
The great waterway is wide and deep,
but here she is gentle as a sheep.
A barge can be seen far away,
making its plodding trek upstream,
there’s no one else around,
nature makes the only sound.
Sounds of birds here and there.
The gentle water slapping the shore.
As I crest the hill, returns the breeze,
I pull my hood tight, a bit of a freeze.
Soon enough the weather will warm.
More animals and the leaves will be back.
Until then I’m more than happy with this.
Late winter, early spring, it’s pure bliss.
Poetry