Honeysuckle Seems Sweetest

Honeysuckle seems sweetest
On a late May walk
At half past seven.

The sun not yet driven away
The cool of the night,
And the odors waft upon the tender morning breeze,
Arresting the traveler in his journey.

Earth opens her perfumery in spring,
Lightening the hearts of men and women
Whose senses have waxed dull
By the dreariness of winter.

New ideas,
New plans,
New ambitions,
Fill the heart.
New resolve to create,
To build,
To improve,
Inspired by longer, warmer days,
And the fragrances of blossoms.
But especially the sweetest honeysuckle.

Cool Evenings in Spring

Evenings this time of year,
Blowing their cool breaths,
Infusing the mind with hope and joy,
Providing comfort and rest at the conclusion of day.

The sky, blushing with pride at producing such magnificence,
Inspiring birds to warble their last before nightfall,

The moon, the planets, and the stars,
Popping out in the twilight and from behind dissipating clouds,

Making me wish every night a repeat performance.

The cool of the evening.
Perhaps like in the Garden?
Perhaps like heaven will be.