Nova Poem by Kay Bressner

As cobblestones stroll slowly pink pale gray
to southern Sunday morning's live oak shade,
nearby a fountain waters softest rain,
the cloudless sky blesses white flow'ring crepe.
Proud pinwheels in anticipation stand
as pretty poinciana trees abound;
this morning, sole domain of sky and land -
green growth and distant chirps complete the sound.
Warm welcoming, the new day's balmy breeze,
in perfect stillness sparkle golden fruits,
one bird, his silhouette aloft does preen,
a'twinkling all around are blossoms blue.
The egret sails; his large white waving wings
in rev'rent beat, prayer of silent chanting.