This morning in the garden children with colorful crayons have drawn arrows,
And they are pointing to hearts politely left on pathways as they sang songs in unison.
A deed of Cupid I thought indeed,
Tonight under the stars and the constellations of galaxies,
I see angels hiding in plain sight and serenading fairies,
Are these the same angels caring for flowers when they lose a pedal, and the trees a leaf?
What’s pain for these flowers over a broken pedal or a leaf flown-high-and-away,
but a necessity in their pursuit of beauty and joy I thought,
And what’s love but the happy pleasure of the temperate soul.
The sophistication of dragonflies, birds, and butterflies’s friendship keeps flourishing under the essence of the rain that has just fallen,
And thus refined again, and again at sunrises,
Here I hear the sweet-sounding of butterflies kissing,
And can feel their hearts beating,
Oh, what an harmonious hymn,
The sun gently reflects over the pond and the water over which I stand,
And like a band or two lovers entangled, I see a boat in repose with its two yellow paddles entangled like two lovers to watch the sun set,
On the bank of the river,
I contemplate and hear the timbres of love casting its net.