Sunday Morning Poem by Joni

Upon the blades of green,
far below
the whispering wind's
finger-painted sky,

Tiny ant crawls ...
Over my blanket of blue
onto my hand.

Does he see?
Does he know?
Or is he simply marching,
Steady on his journey,
Present with
the ever-changing terrain.

With a breath of encouragement,
he sets sail to another
patch of green,
on a new path ...
As the shining sun
Sparkled fairy dust down
In blessing ...

To beginnings.