This Is The Day Poem by Kay Bressner

Through Sunday's window, dappled day
showers upon leaves so great,
each a tropical cradle.

'Weeping' trees
for tears have no need;
rather, then, they lounge serenely

serenaded by the music
of sacred afternoon

wrapped in the comfort
of bark, old and homespun.

Jays and red-wings,
breakfasted,
resting

agave and hibiscus
ever holding splendid secrets

bottlebrush blooms hinted;
ferns, many olive orchids

sleek reclining temporarily,
soon to dance with Latin beauty

in plumeria's white
eternal light.