Earlier in May so mild as this day,
Our garden this spring grew those plants,
With their forms so fluid,
As they'd dance in the breeze,
Touch the leaves,
And watch them flutter to each engaged visit,
Many bumblebees with pale-white butterflies drifting,
Throughout those garden petals,
But now in this September moment,
Where the river flows for no one in Delta,
It will leave untamed and mighty always,
A gift in each of those painted wildflowers,
Lovely is each pink blossom with petals catching our lasting hours.
