
how do the buds know
the right time to fall away
and let the leaves grow

how do the buds know
the right time to fall away
and let the leaves grow
scratching at front door
climbing up the window sill
odd acting squirrel

waves on the prairie
the ebb and flow of the winds
the rhythm of life
finally redbuds
announcing spring’s arrival
a good day to die
fading so quickly
beauty is here then is gone
those who blink miss out

some may call it illusion
less time doesn’t mean less real