I don't know how
the sun slips silently
behind the trees
or how the leaves unfurl so quietly
that I miss their arrival.
I don't know how
the Dogwood blooms white
and the Bluets suddenly appear
in a tender burst of burgeoning hope.
I don't know how
the years pass so swiftly -
one moment a child
and too soon a man.
The years float swiftly past
like clouds on a summer afternoon -
how I long to tie them down
like buoyant balloons.
