The magnolia trees are beginning to bloom, in time – they shall mark both the end and the beginning of something new;

And in her shade a hummingbird rests, eager to engage the fields of crimson red;

Though she stands nobly, she is not proud – her roots knowing the certainty of their place;

And never once longing for fields beyond, with such soften yet beneath her ‘feet’;

She does not labor over moments passed, nor does trouble herself over potential futures;

Rather, she fixes her sites to scattered tracings of sun – however small, she remains ever grateful.

Namaste ❤️