Today the oaks have changed,
Or at least they have in my world.
Tawny tufts of curling sage
have given way to gloss green emerald hues,
As spring leaves once more and summer’s still
depths beckon from the rain veils.
Another turning of the wheel.
The fifty-sixth for me.
Forty four more will be sweet,
But for now I count the days in rowan blossom blessings.
