The deer, who never fully leave,
now roam free where the snowbanks thawed,
deliberate, with softer fur,
gently stepping through the field.
Some fold their legs, lay down to rest,
exemplify serenity,
while others gnash fresh tufts of grass
along the corners of the creek.

The squirrels swerving through the elms
may never live contented lives,
suggesting that no season's safe
and we must ever be prepared,
as foragers, uncovering,
recalling what we've come to hoard,
and that there's little time for sleep
if one intends to see more springs.

Plump robins bob on branches, dart,
sweet harbingers of earth's rebirth,
hopping, singing, searching, perching,
flapping, landing, seizing worms.
The muddy ones expecting eggs
will nurture nests in just some days,
weaving, leaving, circling back,
devising for the births to be.

For all these creatures, this is life,
though they can be our teachers, too,
instructing us in modest ways
to set aside our nonchalance
then never waste a summer day,
but cherish every renaissance,
greet blessings with more gratitude,
and, from the struggles, be renewed.