Through bristling branches,
a golden sword of bright light,
filters into sight.
The sun warms my arms,
cold goose bumps flattening out,
like sand on a beach.
Lime green grass and leaves,
sway under my treading feet,
smelling of fresh earth.
White spots dot the scene,
pollen faces reflect joy,
the joy of a chain.
Linking, one by one,
stem by stem, forming a ring.
Delicate petals.
Held up to the sun,
they glow, sprawled on the blanket,
white, transparent ovals.
Each spring the joy comes,
of creating from nature,
the joy of making.
A daisy chain.
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