Green leaves tap at my window like lost souls.
I trace their signatures upon the glass.
Dawn is only a few quatrains away.
I memorize the fragrance of spring rain.
It takes me back beyond Eden, my friends
Where Adam brushed the first tear from Eve's eye.
Stripped of their innocence, how could they know?
The last grief would be soothed by God himself.
Somewhere deep in the hills, a lyric bird
Sings of the poignancy of humanness.
The ever freshness of that ancient sound
Brings back the sun that shone aeons ago.
Sandra Fowler, copyright,2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.