With warmth,
with newly sprayed cologne,
spring mists at water’s edge,
obscuring life’s origins
on the banks, below surface.
The vista is small,
recovering from winter’s bruises,
gains a second wind
that is, in fact, a gentle breeze.
The earth provides
a soft, damp platform
for thought and conjecture
turns busy man into anchorite
with stick in hand
and tranquility for an objective.
Contemplation triumphs here.
I feel its kindness,
absorb its power.
