Butterflies and a Garden Intruder

Poetry of Early Summer

I Shall Go Softly

I shall go softly in the garden now;
Each time I turn a corner I intrude.
The hummingbird upon the sage for food,
The oriole upon an upper bough,
The unseen quail with many-numbered brood
Invisible, still murmurs as she goes.
But I’ll go softly as the summer grows;
I shall be silent and half-seen and viewed
As garden sprite just glimpsed beside…