Sunshine

Yes, yes, the sun is shining.
We’’ll all stop whining.
It was really getting old,
the weather being so cold.
The little bees are humming,
their delicate wings all thrumming,
flitting from flower to flower,
polluting all in their power.
The birds are singing from their heart,
each song a piece of art,
each one an Ode to Joy,
a beautiful uplifting ploy.
My affection is not fleeting,
‘cause this is my heart-felt greeting.