I feast on abundance
in every direction I look
not a single blade or petal out of place.
The pinecone’s golden ratio
echos the rose in shape
nestled in a sea of ancient rocks.
Tiny, fuzzy bees scurry
into trumpets of golden powder
their songs calling forth sweet nectar.
Patterns of Nature abound
craggy, soft, plumed and colorful
kissed by sunlight, water and soil.
Chirps, beeps and songs fill the air
high above and hidden under brush
songbirds remind us to take joy and fly light.
Regina Chante 