POEM: At Rest, From A Hammock: On The First Warm Day of Spring

I breathe freedom as deeply as air
While brush tips of swaying birch trees move
To a melodic voice of spring breezes.
Can every creature, just now climbing
Out from its burrows’ damp confines –
Can every bud that holds the tension
Of that first moment of opening –
Can every wasp that preens itself in
Tender warm light, feel the potential
That a day – a simple day - might hold
Out in the palms of open hands -
A gentle gift to every one of us?