Echos of Nighttime

The echos of nighttime hiding beneath the trees
Keep the grass wet and cool for wading toes
Where the lawn wears its length as the mowers please
Tasting the dew where the dust from the highway grows.
The shouts of the new day bringing out the view
Show us flowers in pots of ceramic reds
And looking up the petals praise while remembering their due
Unlike those nearer the house still in their beds,
A gold finch lands on a birch's smaller limb
And had it no wings it would have fallen aground,
But it catches itself and lands in front of him
For only a moment which made them think as she frowned.
But, he smiled to think she got all that involved
As the breezes changed and his attentions flown elsewhere dissolved.