In a blue lagoon

Spring nears,
and awakening
to a world no longer dark,
I step outside and breathe:
fresh scents enchant
the blinding dog,
who stretches his lead
in new directions,
exploring some new corner
of the yard between
your house and mine.
I stand between
your pine tree and the water

as he wanders, nose to the ground,
and listen to the chirp and whirring --
a family of hummingbirds, whose presence we disturbed --
then (duty done) turn back, round the corner, head for home,
to see a drift of cloud, white against the gray,
suspended over houses, and there, below,
swift shadow of an otter,
chasing after fish
in a blue lagoon.