I wait
for spring;
the petals
on a fleeting breeze;
the scent of grass
made soft by the warm sun;
the hymn of life
started by the first birdsongs of the morning;
the faint hum
of beating wings
as a bee lands gently
on the pistil of a flower;
the lukewarm night
where the moon peers curiously
at the yellow-orange tinge of sunrise.