A long time since my thoughts came out in verse
except for mopey, miserable stuff;
perhaps the odd haiku for now and then.
My meter’s better when my moods are worse.
I hadn’t had a feeling strong enough
to make it worth the time to find a pen.

But lately I’m delighted by small things
and springtime seems like it will last forever.
And in my garden I’m surprised to find
how many things I planted are alive.
The thing inside my heart that still has wings
and the aspect of my mind that can be clever
the part of me that’s strong, and the part that’s kind,
found water for their roots, and might survive.