-This poem reflects on a May morning as the season of spring settled into fullness, where beauty, growth, and quiet joy feel fully at home in the world.
The light arrives already kind,
resting warm on leaf and stone,
the branches full, the grass grown deep,
the day made soft by living green.
Birdsong travels through the air,
not sharp with first return, but clear,
a settled music, bright and sure,
as if the world has found its voice.
Along the path the blossoms fall,
while newer growth keeps rising still,
and everywhere the quiet earth,
seems busy with a gentle joy.
This is the season grown at ease,
the early wonder given form,
when all that opened learns to stay,
and morning feels like grace made plain.