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Grace

Grace

the willow strands

almost touched the water

where turtles swim

with fish

each path is dotted

with teeny tiny pastel flowers

the trees are teeming with leaves

as the squirrels scurry to the top

to nest

like birds

that sing their song

not to be heard

but felt

the old man with his cane

is slow

but steady

beneath a canopy

of pale pink blossoms

that fall into the stream

full from drops

warmed by the sun

the ladybugs crawl ruby red

against the concrete

but lift their wings

when they want to fly

maybe not as graceful as a butterfly

or as fast as a hummingbird

or as persistent as a gnat

but they breeze

through the air

and land

like a blink

for the tiny to see

like fireflies

in the dark

TL

Published inPoetry