April Morning
A gauze shroud of misty fog
envelops my patch this morning.
An earthy aroma of a damp
spring nurses the sense.
Near colors are muted.
Yesterday's emerald pines,
have become celadon,
the litter of umber oak
leaves, beige.
Distant views seem tinted grays.
The diffused light makes the puddles
look like pools of quicksilver.
The world of sounds is hushed,
calls of chickadees, whispers,
rustling leaves can barely be heard
and distracting noises go unnoticed.
It's a world of pleasant melancholy,
a day to look back,
a day to plan ahead,
a day to feel the now.
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