Dandelion seeds dance on the wind,
Swaying there white skirts to and fro.
A pinecone rolls madly,
Closer and closer to a big unknown.

Croaks jump from small green bodies,
Gliding atop a murky pond
And swimming in pungent skies.
Eyes peek over treetops,
Swallowing the raw world they feast on.

Leaves and their brother’s take evening walks,
Just before the sun slides into its velvet pocket.
Grass that grows in fine green wisps sings,
Bellowing the soft lullaby of earth.

Small friends carry the burden
Of light upon there backs,
Slicing open the night
With innocent wings.

A momma wakes her babies
Beneath the sturdy sticks called home,
Savors the small licks that can’t last.
She looks down at them
With eyes that write love,
And says:

‘Stay like the trees
With there sought out roots.
Don’t drift too far
From our truest core.’