4.10.16 Slipping by

D own by the farmers fields 

there was no one about, 

but the grass was quickly taller and rich and ripe, 

the river full to spilling , 
and all around us were buds bursting 
into their range of exquisite once a year colors, 

with tiny fragile thin leaves following 
as we quietly walked the hard dry dirt road 

down to where the river plunged into its turn 

and one lone Goshawk slipped by overhead.

 

and really, that sky was this blue.