White sunlight casts upon closed lids
a fi'ry sunset glow,
as 'neath me fledgling grasses chill-
a paradox bestowed.
Ripe lilac breezes punctuate
the pressing troposphere,
plush purple wisps that twist and skate
through winter-ravaged nares.
Stout aster stems doth hold aloft
with velvet tongues that seek the gloss
of nectar's sticky prize.
The plodding drone of laden bees
augments the brook's frore flux-
a limpid backyard symphony
'pon which my pith can sup.