The new buds of the season
are whispering in the trees
bursting joyfully
into fragrant flowers
but just as the rivers
full and flowing
sing their melodies
to the aching night
meandering their way to sea
the colours of the day
are quietly dissolving
in the dying of the light
and the soft sighing
of the ever-errant wind
will carry their petals away
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 