Every sense alive, we make our way
Down the steep slope towards the rippled lake,
Brushing the foliage of multi-green
Abundant sage and grasses in our wake,
With daisies, mustard, brittlebrush and gold
Luring the purple butterflies that take
Our eyes towards the sky, where proud like gods
Of forests stand the redwood trunks that stake
The heavens to the soil beneath our feet,
Dropping their piney spices for our sake.
LRH
5.29.06
Linda Hepner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-temple/
