Passing Time

I desperately miss the hop of spring The verve of blossoming bluebells They meet midday sun with a smile The buzz of a thousand tiny tipsy bees Drunk from beauteous bounty of flowers At the furthest distance mile after mile The frenzy of flocking butterflies Childlike in their play they color the sky Miss the miracle if you blink awhile The bush on the path refuses to die Anxious seeds swollen from winter Lay on a bed that they find fertile Now spring has passed into summer The air’s perfumes dissipate Fruits litter the ground in piles The sun tans and torches the soil Opposing the hand of thunderstorms Nature proves quite versatile The grass path is now trodden on Sun goes to bed with the children The land is readied for winter’s trial