Spring is innocence
A time of rebirth
The perennial season of hope when all things seem possible.
Spring is a time of being present
Yet permissibly absent
A passport to daydreams
It is savored in measured teaspoons by the old
And ravenously guzzled from endless decanters by the young.
A young woman, just 19 years of age
With windswept hair the color of dark earth
Finds a small rock by the side of a creek to sit upon
And take her fill
If only every day of the year could echo this April day
The sun laughing on the water
The sky so beautiful, the color of a robin's egg.
Overhead, a wedding veil, spun from diaphanous clouds
Reveals itself in the sky
A row of Queen Anne's Lace that borders the water
Speaks of gowns and elegant evenings to come
The young woman unfastens the cover of her diary and daydreams