April's golden tresses
grace willow trees
and bless forsythia tips
near my mountain porch,
my heavenly perch.
My dog catches zzzz's
paws moving to
squirrelly-cued dreams,
but melted snow rushes
faster to the river
flowing towards valleys below.
Clouds almost touch my world
misting pastures,
while a rainbow bends to color
their gray and white canvas.
Summer slowly ascends
slopes below me
bearing the scent
of honeysuckle and devil's paintbrush.
I remain a speck of flesh
a pigment of imagination
on God's incredible palette,
trying to capture his marvels on
pounded, ground up remnants
of trees I've never climbed.
