PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I strolled among the small green fingers

Easing their way through the still cool soil

As the clouds played peek-a-boo with the sunlight.

This youthful time of year when even birds

Throw off their sobriety of frozen winter fare

For this soft and sweet fermented wine of life

Serenades the spirit as its winds lightly whistle

Through last years fallen stalks

Yet to be removed to the pile behind the shed.