The small crowd of birds, having fun. The largest caws slowly to his little band gath'ring by the running waters of this creek Where pine and hardwood grow out of the sand. Smoke from our little barbecue Rises in a miniscule plume. Likewise we race home To rest in dry homes While the rains fall. Of an ever-bearing planets womb.
Blue skies are purple in dying hue.
Beasts, great and small, To sleeping places creep and crawl. The 'coon dances The wolf does bay. Cleansing all our fears. The sun in Spring Upon the planet pounds. Trumpeting infant birds in new-born down Gift humankind his living crown.