Giving Thanks

Here again, senses high on the fill of a spring morning, pillows of magnolia, wings swarming the thick, sweet air, contented sighs escaping out of the lips of shadows. There is no half measure here but full breath inflated to power life to fly, crawl or swim, each in its way fulfilling destiny in a wondrous dream. It's no use holding back, best leap into the morning and hitch whatever remains of yourself to the hum of movement, the budburst and throated yell of all things giving thanks to be of the earth no matter for how long or who will hear.