(And I've been picking dandelions)

The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud
Over the foliage's luscious green mounds
It billows on its good fortune allowed
Feeding flowers leave stock's
roots underground

Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations
The sun burdens and caresses at once
The bumble lost its edge to pollutants
Overcome in the tepid meadows grace

The seasons start to grow long and narrow
Encompassing the changing of our times
within their altering breadths; to and fro
It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides

She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew
And in her pluck, spring has become renewed