Early morning breezes
feel mountain-made
weaving through porch railings.
It's the kind of morning
to close eyes while leaning
Heavenward on tiptoes.
Inhaling deeply,
I almost lose my balance.
Crisp, clean air
rushes around,
fills me all the way down
to shy bare feet.
Confederate Jasmine's
tiny, five-petaled flowers
flap in active winds,
tossing light perfumes
here and there playfully.
Sweet essences
catch a quick ride
on ever-gentle gusts
as June's wind-whispered greetings
come my way.
A welcoming spirit stands still
grasping peace and harmony
in Sunday morning solitude.
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