To my eyes weeds are roses,
And puddles are the sea.
The sun on the horizon
Is staring back at me.

The wind blows the direction
Toward where I should begin,
And snowflakes are soft fingers
That gently touch my skin.

The clouds paint pictures for me
Against the pale blue sky.
The leaves whisper their secrets
From trees as I walk by.

The stars discuss a mission
That I’m called to fulfill.
Night creatures howl in chorus
To fortify my will.

The birdsong is a signal
To step into the rain,
And buzzing insects tell me
To meet the speeding train.