Of Things that Disappear in Gentle Breeze

Of things that disappear in gentle breeze;
That ripple only once through stately trees:

        A word of kindness that I do not share,
        A gentle touch not felt to show I care;
        A moment’s meditation never found,
        A chance to meet someone on common ground;
        A fresh-cut trail I do not choose to take
        A chance to say “I’m sorry, my mistake

Each opportunity I fail to seize
I rue their disappearance in the breeze!