won't you join me
on this stroll into the woods
along the winding creek
where spring is sprung
the neighborhood fox
sits on the path
determined to have a staring contest with me
the birdsong responds
to the tree frog call
they compose
the backyard trill
i inhale the faintest smell of honeysuckle
as the tulip trees shake off the weekend rain
i lift my face to Spring's breath
