Quickfeet like fairy flight and butterfly wings,
chipper sounds from hollowed woodwinds,
and notes lifted through particles of pollen.
Hither,thither, away, and below,
the swing on the porch creaks,
with the push of sundresses and bare dirt feet.
Petals dance in whirlwind,
touch delicately in the way of courtship,
under the gaze of the parental sun.
All these are warm as blanket grass tanned over,
left as the picnics finest venue.
All these are lovely like the pipers giggle ,
muffled into a shoulder or tried by a kiss.
There I am wrapped,
in waters twinkle,
earths brass,
fires blaze,
and the winds ultimate silence.
This I felt on the wraparound porch hoisted to spring.