Saturn is spinning with rings of rosy grey brown there beneath the maple tree
as a scurry of squirrels
dashing circling
tag-your-it
at twelve-after-seven on a April morning in Nebraska
the squirrels they ring
robins
wrens
bluejays
sing
Greeting ----
This Spring Sun
rising rising against the constellation of tulips-stars & greenness green
nothing is ever wasted
matter never vanishes
movement's ancient dance to seasons transformation
where are the cranes now?
where are the bison?
who are we to bear witness to such glory?
--Hello day--
How lucky we are
