my window as I write,
I am lost in my reverie.
Red Bud blooms,
Dandelions burst forth,
(much to my spouses chagrin, but my childish delight),
Daffodils almost spent,
Tulips limping along,
till the peonies
are brought forth by small ants
eating their way to beauty.
Twenty-seven years ago,
I did not see any of this spring beauty.
(it was lost on me, truth be told)
another beauty was springing forth,
a baby boy.