Rising before dawn,
a sudden thunderstorm
rousing the pups,
we head out into the cool morning air.

Rain drips from sodden branches
as the sidewalk soaks up the moisture
like a thirsty sponge.

Down the street, around the corner
I stop to observe
the sublime form
of a miniature spring blossom
laying on the path.

This sweet gum tree flower
seems to have escaped
from the yard of a dollhouse,
so perfectly is it constructed.

I envision tiny tweezers
in the dollhouse maker’s hand,
carefully placing each blossom
in the lilliputian yard.

Is this how we humans must seem
To birds soaring high above?