The stately robin, with his slanted eye,
in morning rays of brightly colored glass
Can search around and find himself a prize;
A hearty meal beneath the dewy grass
Beyond the hill the sky is pink and gold,
A youthful breeze sends smells of distant rain
The early air is fresh and slightly cold,
And soft, gray clouds drift in across the plains
A path of tulips leads me to the door;
Outside, the children play ‘til evening light
When sunset leaves its patterns on the floor
and day falls in the arms of waiting night
And only then do gentle stars appear,
To give us hope that something new is near
