a poem by Lukas Bartsch

Zephyros lifts me gently,
beckoning me, friendly,
to come along; explore.

Over field and meadow,
I cast my tiny shadow,
for a moment; nevermore.

East on abandoned mills,
grow lovely daffodils;
how joyfully they spoke.

Over a gentle stream,
a laugh, a dance, a dream,
in me the nymphs evoke.

Great birds pass me by,
to their nests they fly,
singing all the while.

Through a forest old,
my soul the trees did hold,
as we passed another mile.

All I searched and found,
ranquility.