The pretty lilies flare up in amber joy, once again
After a very long, freezing year of hibernation,
And the comely roses glow like crimson embers, once more,
Mesmerizing the puffing strollers that stagger toward a tavern
To rest their weary feet and exhausted bodies.
The whistling breeze welcomes the first indigo light of morning
While sweeping away the misery of the night and the woe of the sad owl.
The hand of the Lord smears tranquility upon the emerald meadow
As the sleeping grass meanders deeper into their "Snow White" dream,
Unaware of dawn's peaceful return to this quiet corner of the Milky Way.