First Day of Summer

A magic flute, a silver note,
a robin on the wing,
everything is celebrating
summer     and I
am one with them.

My eyes see only art:
the weed, the vine, the bloom,
the supple Maple tree,
Each is a maestro
in its proclivity to dance, or sing,
or merely be.

Though I,
wan mortal that I am,
stand paler
by their beauty, Today
I am at once the wing-ed bird
and the graceful tree.

12 thoughts on “First Day of Summer

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