springtime meadow

The springtime meadow

was filled with scent and sound and sight.

Chirping, chattering, beseeching,

rejoicing in nesting and feeding

and the fleeting freedom of flight

the air replete with a symphony

on a sun soaked morning

a chorus overlaid on a background

of relentless buzzing, humming, droning among the scattered trees

Branches outstretched cross-like, laced intricate in blossom,

others reaching to the sky held high cupping their flowered offerings

My nostrils filled with honeysuckle comforting like springtime vanilla

Heavy in the clean clean air following a nightime shower

The gentle breeze wafting

touches of unknown smells somehow familiar, somehow in harmony.

And where the pasture narrowed into a long lost farm road,

its edges a jumble of broken down shrubs and branches,

Garlanded by wildflowers,

delicate Delft delights of blues, whites,

unknown bushes in quiet bloom

peeking from the shadows

I stopped and looked back,wondering what had been,

dreams abandoned,

dreams pursued

wondering what could be,

the canvas waiting,

wondered by it all

that I was here with you.