In the spring before the blooms –

dress the trees in bridal gowns;

stark the branches in the sky,

cold wind and rain to chill the soul.

Pretty though the blooms may be,

still I love those branches bare,

for the promise that they hold,

for the joy that they will bring.

 

So I sit, wrapped in my thoughts

and a warm and quilted coat.

To allow my mind to drift –

with the white clouds overhead.

So white cloud where will we go

untill the sun can warm a face?

Mine to glow away from pale

yours to fade into the sky.

 

Was that a whisper that I heard?

Where you really calling me?

Yes I saw steam in my mind,

rising vapor, making clouds.

Steam is rising from a stream.

Water bubbles in a brook.

Rocky ledges, ferns and flowers,

water fall and deep blue pool.

 

So I strip and standing pale,

like a candle in a shrine.

Wash away the cities grit.

Cleanse my body and my mind.

Then under the steaming fall,

pounded by the warming sheet.

Clouds of vapor wrapped around;

hide my body from the wind

 

Now I slip into the pool.

Deep and dark it takes me in.

Enveloped now, my mind is free

once again to fly away.

Happy cloud, high overhead,

drifting in the bright blue sky.

Happy me down here below,

floating in this warming pool.

 

Tranquil thoughts, away I glide,

rising upwards to the clouds.

Blossom blooms and I am one

with my nature and my soul.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria