Upon a Moment

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Upon a Moment

2012© Olan L. Smith


I love the song of the chickadees

As they traverse trunks of trees.

It is a lovely season, spring.

In a glen, I hear a cowbell's resounding ring

Wafting on breezes, a gift of nature's air;

I look upon the sky's blue glare,

"Who would bid such beauty adieu?"


Alas, storms will come, and dawn will present dew;

Buds bloom and blossom — color's richness unveil

In our presence, upon the moment we must avail.

A poet sits upon a hillock, placing hand in purse

She removes a quill and pens a verse.

While below an artist with colors of oil

Dabs his brush on canvas and paints, his easel buttressed in rich soil.

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