Am I to be persuaded

Am I to be persuaded

By the call of the sun,

In its encouragement

To the blooms of the garden,

As they shout their

Colourful delight.

Do I pretend to care.

Should the light from

The window

Brighten my day

And cause my prevailing

Mood to lift?

Improvement warrants

An acknowledgment

Of sorts,

When ambient light

Adds new perspective

To the view,

Warms the skin

And promotes such

Un-abandoned joy

In the flora and fauna.

Even the bees seem

To dance a samba.

Can I be so easily affected

By this common touch,

Or is it a season

To be jolly?

Can such a small

But subtle change in outlook

Move me to a revision

Of disposition.

Is it the brightness of passion fruit

The pinkish glut of flowers

Bursting into my line of sight,

Refusing to be ignored,

They seem to pout

So loudly does their

Simple swaying presence shout.

How do they do that?

If a man was to be so insistent

It would,

Indeed be harassment,

Instead of appreciation

For any obvious

And bountiful qualities

And lauded over for

Still being alive

I would,

Most assuredly,

Be arrested.

So much for equality

Of opportunity,

When the light of

The sun can wreak

Such disregard

For ordinariness.

And in some small,

Immeasurable way

Lift the mundane

From the edge of

Life’s forgotten treasures,

Setting it,

So artfully and fully formed,

Before me.

Too obviously positioned

Not to be seen

Testing to see if I will refuse

Its worth

Knowing I will not.

It is a day

Full of blue sky

And the bountiful cry

Of summer.

Oh how beautiful

She sounds today.