When you chance upon a pretty flower,
And are drawn into its bountiful beauty,
Think of Mother Nature, a higher power,
And her mighty might, a force to admire.
It is the season Spring, whereby birds do so sing
In the morning waking us so to their chirpy call,
And one and all can raise a smile in so knowing
That it's the flowing of growing - unlike the fall.
Trees will bloom their treasures that we treasure,
Walking amongst them blooming is a pleasure,
The long grass growing carpets the soft ground
With the cooling wind blowing the only sound.
Squirrels will so gather their nuts for storing away,
Lambs in the fields will frolick and so aptly play,
It is so the season for admiring what is so on show -
From walking a footpath to wandering in a meadow.
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