Hear the whisper of the breeze
As it meanders through the trees
Seeking every nook and cranny it appears
Forbidding anything to be left in arrears.

Listen and you will hear the quiet sound
Of the breeze as it weaves its way around
Searching and examining each leaf with care
Like a long lost treasure is hidden there.

Then I wake up in the morning
And feel the warm breeze upon my face
Signs of Springtime are all around me
That makes this old world a pleasant place.

- Robert Edgar Deitz
March 9, 1925-July 19, 2011
Rest in Peace Mister Deitz.