Upon a Moment

2012© Olan L. Smith

I love the song of the chickadees

As they traverse trunks of trees. 

It is a lovely season, spring. 

In a glen I hear a cowbell's resounding ring

Wafting on breezes, a gift of nature's air;

 I look upon the sky's blue glare, 

"Who would bid such beauty adieu?"

Alas, storms will come and dawn will present dew;

Buds bloom and blossom — color's richness unveil

In our presence, upon the moment we must avail.

A poet sits upon a hillock; placing hand in purse

She removes a quill and pens a verse

While below an artist with colors of oil

Dabs his brush on canvas and paints; his easel buttressed in rich soil.