Now that the landscape is green,
Muddy lanes are drying, spreading
Dust on wayside weeds, lambs bleat
And evenings are longer. I walk in
An aromatic landscape of poppies
And shimmering bushes that appear
As a giant’s peppermint breaths,
A Mist of transcendental wonder.
Timeless, old as earth itself I’m and
In death I shall be what I was, long
Before birth: air, a humble leaf and
Dust on wayside weeds.