This is home.
Our gathering place.
Where we are most ourselves
In this, this season of beauty.
It is the time by which we measure all others
Though this first bloom is as but in a dream
And this jubilant shade of joy does seem so near
While lingering stillness captures us and keeps us
And Summer wraps her winged arms full 'round us.
For this, this is home.
Under this canopy, attached to the sky.