I am neither amazed by the blue sky
Nor fascinated by the green parks
But the tulips that I can’t buy
And New Year’s Eve fireworks’ sparks

This spring, these leaves are growing and birds are tweeting
To sprout, with buds
From green grass and soil and sun they are interacting
Without hatred that suds

The poet’s pendulum dances in joy
To sprinkle inks of thoughts in earth, air, and water
Mixed with Lilith and Eve, not always as lily
Euphony enchants me this time in September