Alive

Countless days of 80 degree weather and pristine, blue skies. It is summer, at last. I only wish the school year understood...


Alive

The buds have burst upon the branch,
the birds returned to nest,
the sun has woken from the east
and carried to the west,

the frost has built a fluent home

beyond the sandy shore,

the wind is whispering a song

that flows without a score,

the clouds have split apart a shroud

to bare a spotless blue,

and we have risen from the dead

to see all things anew.