The sun inches skyward
in the quiet after-rain
of a gentle pre-dawn shower.
The rich sweet essence
of moistened earth
suffuses the air with promise.
Towering oaks and sugar maples
oscillate in the breeze -
their capricious rushing sounds
playing pristine counterpoint
with the jaunty chants
of robins, cardinals and chickadees.
Spring is pacing in the wings
awaiting her cue from the wheel of time.
and all creation waits in concord.
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem