The smell of fresh-mown grass.
The warmth, the sunlight, and a subtle breeze
Illuminate the verdure of the trees
With gentle touch, and colours rich, make my
Small world idyllic; paint the shadows, paint the sky.

A/N: thank goodness for older poems that I can just polish up with editing and then hurl into the void of the Internet in a vain effort to comply with my update schedule 😂

(if you're wondering why you're reading spring poems in winter… that's why)