Walk softly on spring grass
each straw is a soul
trying to survive
after a winter of grim harshness.

Do not pick tiny yellow flowers
because they are the sun’s children
so delicate that in a vase
they will quickly fade away.

Do not pick bluebells
that grow in the shadow of oaks
they have borrowed night hue
and will tinkle you a dream.

Walk quietly on spring grass
listen to nature’s even breaths
as morning mist arises
and know that all life is eternal.