Children of the dandelion
float gently in all harmony
looking for a spot to rest on
they have no mind of company
only for a place to be
When the willow reaches out
in hopes to tickle grass below
it meets the little fickle sprout
from which the seeds will later flow
if it is allowed to grow
The chirping of the fresh hatched chick
the barking from the squirrel's tree
the dog running out to fetch the stick
the buzzing of the bumblebee
this is Summertime to me
