Fresh Air

As I am sitting here looking at the green mountain, I am grateful for the fresh air. 
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