The birds are in abundance, bouncing like beads of popping popcorn.
Running water from a cool, crisp, bubbling spring trickles down the hill, draining into the mist.
Decaying leaves left from fall, are mixed with the blossoming sprouts of wild flowers.
Days are just a little longer and so is the breath I take in.
The ground still moist where snow not long ago covered the decaying leaves.
I sit here as the day is passing away, turning into the next.
Grateful for the fresh air!
--Barbara M., Adult