WHYGARDEN sixty-two
My dream settles in an Eden of leaves and light.
The fragrance of grass rises softly,
while bright shadows shimmer above the clouds.
If a dream remembers only seven seconds,
then each of my seconds belongs to spring.
Even those stray thoughts of fate
turn into verses for the season,
line after line covered in quiet joy.
A wind from the hills pauses at the window.
The clouds send an eleventh letter.
Green shoots wake between the pages of a book,
a faint scent of freesia drifts through the air.
A wind chime brushes my cheek,
and a call reaches me from afar.
All of it feels like a daydream
delivered by spring.
RECOMMEND · SPACES
WHYGARDEN
Time Well Wasted in Spring Light
If we never make time for the seemingly useless, how are we to spend our finite lives?
WHYGARDEN
Spring Stirs Above the Clouds
If noise is not your way of life, enjoy the quiet of answering only to yourself.
WHYGARDEN
In Conversation with the Wind of the Fifteenth Century
Where civilizations overlap, spring is filled with fragrance.