As the wind,
in its soundless
bluescape of stillness,
flutters leaves in an
endless cascade of smells

the meadow’s grassleaf,
fragrant in its peaceful
countenance of poise,
shorn by my embrace of
a yellow-candled sun

so mixed with Spring’s
rout of gracious blue
in the rush of pines
around me blushed
in azure-true abundance

so immersed am I in your love
in the passion of your
meadows this open Place
in homage to your infinite
thrush of life held in time

-even for a moment-
you are countless

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© K. James Ribble