May morning mist, Smithfield Valley,
highlights blue, yellow pansy
blooming as bees hover softly
with air of light comedy
while brindled cows munch quietly,
clouds hovering hillside lightly
with dew-water droplets wooly
nesting in damp hair cozily,
sunlight spearing on pond that spills
our Creator’s cup of good will
on frogs, heron, and whippoorwill
amid chorus of insect trill.
At such moments like this Spring day
pleasure halts my tongue: naught to say.