A Treasure from Above

Calm: a hushed tranquility.
Willowing winds whisper
the soft songs of winter;
brushing past evergreen pines.
Green needles flow
upon branches so high –
the earth is asleep; dreaming.

A smug scent satisfies
the faculty of perception –
whimsical power
flooding inside.

Above you it rests,
an orb of gold –
protecting life in its shell.

A blowing breeze passes,
branches flowing in rhythm,
the globe in close pursuit.

Falling now –
it gracefully lands:
nestled in concord at my feet.

I watch it there,
a treasure of gold:
promising spring to be near.