Through the tree;
The winter sun beaming
In glee,
The lush green grass
Beneath me,
Forming a carpet softly;
The birds chirping in the trees,
The insects frolicking from here to there
The morning dew drops thinning in the warm air;
An apple in my hand
I keep the doctor away;
What more can one ask for
I to myself say.
Published in Daily Times, May 5th 2018.
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