The happy dance is always lost by adults,
to the more serious pursuit of maturity.
They hurry here then there
brows furrowed
as though burrowed in some hole of importance.
Missing the movements of the birds
as they collect bits of interesting things
for their nest, singing all along.
The ice melts sinking into the lake,
sunlight glints sparkling off the
newly released water.
Muskrats dip, dive swimming
to gather cattails for their homes.
A warm breeze, the first, grazes past me
the air is scented with the new season.
Unnoticed the trees sway,
buds ripening, swelling into leaves,
the rains come bringing a special beat,
rejoicing I start my dance because
I see.