The moist road under my feet sings
while the glossy grass
carefully hold their dots of blooms
against the naughty wind in their playful mood.
This bonny morning
pulls me into
its enormous foyer of exuberance;
where trees enjoy monsoon manna
and give a shake to their roots
to go deeper,
where merry brooks
weave their delight into babbling tune
just as the moist road under my feet sings,
telling me to move on.
But my heart chooses
to be a megalith of grief.