fresh on the skin, a shiver, a thrill.
It clears the mind and rejuvenates the soul,
with whispers that render the weary whole.
Winds are changing, winds are moving,
leaves shift, branches stirring and soothing.
So subtle, so slight, a beauty concealed,
a gift for the eyes of those who yield.
Light as it kisses a peony's blush,
glowing in the morning's quiet hush.
It waltzes across a bed of poppies red,
lifting the spirits where hope has fled.
Rays of sunshine pierce the canopy's maze,
playing peek-a-boo with dawn's warm gaze.
Its depth and reach shape the day's grand scape,
a promise to hearts that ache and ache.
The vault of heaven paints its waking scene,
with streaks of pink, lavender sheen.
And baby-blue clouds like ribbons unfurled,
hope flows anew through a weary world.
