A Garden Spring


Trailing slowly along the path
I see buds on the climbing pears,
new leaves on the quaking aspens.

Strolling near the ponds
I see orange fish so bright
they flash in the sun.

Here and here I see
clusters of tulips, masses
of yellow and white daffodils.

Resting on the wooden swing
I see vines of wisteria,
its scent filling the air.

Wandering by the creek
I see budding trees, the water
flowing clear, fresh, and lovely.

Hiking the hillsides
I see the garden spread
out below me. I see spring.

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