No island, but.....
My garden in the sun
is a peaceful spot on a troubled earth.
In the trees hum first bumblebees,
while I pile up branches on the easter hearth
As winter dies, the melting snow
leaves as it goes on the ground below
first little greens and brownish buds
which will entwine round summerhuts.
First breakfast in the sun,
all my wishes and hopes come true,
and the winter will go for good
leaving flowers and blossoms for me and you.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Margret Silvester.
Published on e-Stories.org on 25.03.2017.