Blush

the warm sun

rises, kissing the ivory

morning sky

its rays flutter upwards

the palest pink

the birds sing quietly

as if under their breath

trying not to let the world

know just how

perfect their song is

their chirping little laughter falls over

the field as the sun’s

light grows more vibrant with surprise

and the butterflies’ wings

whisper simple sweetness as

they dance with the

wind, who falls

inward, a gasp

which turns upward

like an inexplicable smile

complemented by the roses

who neglect to fade in the

winter and turn ever

brighter as the sun

rises in the east

closer still

the green willow trees

cascade down but

press against the now lit sky

with youthful vitality

and the sun’s rays ooze a

pretty pink

but before the winds can again

be gasped for, the clouds

rise up, reaching slowly

for the

sky, who ever surprised,

recognizes a new sensation

and the sun lights up the noon

sky as it blushes

the most vibrant pink