So many times have the woodland glen.
With a renaissance of the places I've already been,
To come once again upon familiar things,
In retrospect, then suddenly my heart sings,
Oh, the sweet melodious sound of a bird,
High up on a tree top, gently stirred,
By air and wind, it repeats it lovely song.
Along the pathway can be seen a babbling brook.
Even stepping stones, leading into a shady nook.
It is a gentle springtime day,
One to reflect upon, in the merry month of May.