unhurried
Spring's Whisper
Flowers bloom in sparkling sunshine, spring spills light on waking earth— ducklings dip and rise.
Fallen leaves still cling, summer’s breath stirs subtle in the reeds— time bends, soft and slow.
The city people rush— one by one—into cubicles. Spring slips past— like a name— in the wind of time.
June 12, 2026