Hour by hour,      the morning sunrise
steals the night away.      Swallows, please shut up.

I found a dead bunny
in my yard yesterday
his eyes were still open
But his body was still

I crouched down beside him
to admire his Beauty
and his fur still matted
from where it had been  chewed

I didn't feel sadness
I admired his bravery
I've seen lots of his kind
lately here in my yard

They're sent from the heavens
from my native ancestors

The Raven, the swallows & the two turtle doves...
They are all the....
...reminders
of a God's Burning Love.

I gently picked up
that long sleeping bunny
his little front legs
just dangling straight down
I made him  a bed made of mossy fresh Earth
to return him back home
......without even a sound.

Cherie Nolan © All Rights Reserved * 2016

The swallows and sparrows
dance on the cool morning breeze.

They rise and fall;
         float and stall;
         soaring, diving, fluttering
and all the while chattering—
         not about days been,
         nor days to come—
         but the present moment;
         their current joy.

They trust the sun to rise at dawn,
the moon to appear in the even cooler twilight air.

The swallows and sparrows
      (dancing as they do on the cool morning breeze)
worry not about tomorrow—
for today will have troubles of its own.

Delightful march
breathes in on the sound of the swallows
chirp, and in the pungent scent of lemonade.

Daffodils brave the curtain call
and splash in yellow fountains which
powder the grass canary
and rich caramel.

Boughs of cherry trees burst
once more with indulgent,
fatuous blossoms of sugared coral,

Their marbled paper florets billow
in the gusts rising and falling like
the flocks of starlings.

The future is close, wide and happy.