In tall grass above the branch.
I smell the sweet loam,
Watching the water flow to the river,
Winding its way home.

Sheep graze nearby, watchful,
Alert to sounds of a lamb’s mewing,
Each lifts her white face, ears flicker,
Reassured, resumes her complacent chewing.

Lambs frolic in the warmth of spring,
Running, clicking heels in play,
As they jump into the air like,
Students practicing a wild ballet.

Streaming through the air,
Fluttering near my face,
Orange and black Monarch butterflies,
Settle on stalks of Queen Ann’s Lace.

Flowers gently rock in the breeze,
Butterfly ornaments adorn each bouquet,
Mother sheep call their lambs.
Their soft sounds fill the day.

Mother Nature’s final show,
Will always be there for me.
This day and this place,
Remain deep in my memory,

There will always be a hillside
On a warm spring day,
Where butterflies float by,
And lambs run and play.

Author: Carole Barger

Used with Permission