A Springtime Evening Walk

The smell of a freshly laid fence.

The feel of spring air on fingers

Poking out beyond the jacket sleeve.

The sound of trouser legs in motion,

And of birds that sing a dusking song.

That which is old does not shiver,

The earth is not covered with frost.

Praise be to the only Life-Giver.

May we never be found wand’ring, lost.