In my open stage of dream,
I sleep for this puff of spring
Which strokes my hair and skin
With a kiss of air
...
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How lovely. It makes me think of the magic of my garden in the spring when the humming birds come to drink from the 'Ladies in Red' while the butterflies spring forth from their cocoons as their caterpillar brothers and sisters eat the tender dill sprigs with my blessings.
poemhunter--com/poem/the-beautiful-hummingbird/ Change dropp to slip or fall as Poemhunter gets the word d r o p wrong.