Of cottonwood snows and dragonflies dancing,
Fish tails in a pond and young birds romancing,
Of dark silhouettes in the full moon light,
And barefoot in a field on a cool, still night.
Of the sweet green smells of blossoming flowers,
And crickets who sing to each other for hours,
Of frogs who croak their song through the years,
With music too touching to hold back the tears,
Of arms stretched to the sky for purpose they seek,
As the clouds slowly spread and the moon takes a peek,
Of the brightness which rules the star filled sky,
And the unanswered questions which all start with why,
Of the yearning for reason for the thoughts that we dare,
To lighten dull eyes with the hopes that we share,
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Of the grace and the beauty of the hummingbirds' flight,
And the leaves in the wind which wave to invite,
Of the buzzing of insects as they pas on their lives,
And the circle of life that is born and then dies,
Of the short time we have to take in these pleasures,
And the duty we have to pass on these treasures,
Of cottonwood snows and dragonflies dancing,
Fish tails in a pond and young birds romancing.
by Kurt Barnhart
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