That morning was done by an angel without sun,
And a little swallow flew overhead,
Swift and tailed a long twitter in the air;
Like a new born babe soaring
As reborn with feathers of time.
Boughs on my trees bowed
Like nodding to joy and shook to blush,
Profound hearted to have all there.
Waved and touched, as they whispered
The leaves let me know –
That no stranger was ever so redeemed.
Bounty in life, so I sat,
Stayed to glimpse the play of silent leaves
As they chased the others
With the blades of grass.