A playful gust of breeze
runs fingers through leafy hedges,
making motherly “shushing” sounds as though
to hush the nattering chicks who peep
incessantly from within the leafy depths.
Dappled shadows dance and play upon
the grass as the rippled breeze returns
to brush against the shrubs once again.
A steadier trickle of breeze caresses
the lush spring growth of grasses, as
a mother might lovingly trail her fingers
through her child’s hair,
but the heads of these grasses grow heavy with seed,
still green but swelling
with new life, ripening
in the lush green sunshine
of early summer.
~Flame RavenHawk
June 2, 2004