My Pathways in Spring

My pathways are marked by fallen petals,

The blossoms overhead vibrating, shimmering with visiting bees and other nectar-thirsty beings,

Their bodies dusted with pollen:

Orange, yellow, golden, white.

My pathways through the forest reflecting the light

Of snowdrops on moss, violet trumpets in ferns, red firecrackers and light-green stars,

Fallen among roots and branches and rich earth come to life.

Awakened to spring, showered in rain

My pathways beg exploring, welcome visitors, sprouting new leaves and fresh stems,

Arching tunnels preparing for fruit.

But for now a growing green mosaic giving shelter to delicate orchids, hanging bells and soft clusters

Whose petals slip among my pathways in elegant splendor.

Beauty deserving pause, recognition, reflection

In every direction in which we walk.

My pathways, fit for kings, made sacred in spring,

Graciously accept my humble form.