Beatitude

Parading through my unkempt garden,
 hooting and playing  with joy
 the family with the mother on lead
 pecks and picks the worms on the way
 while the father dances atop the attic
 spreading out its colourful feathers
cooing with love, a signal  to the wife
 bidding her to come near.

Proximity, to human, animals  as well as  birds
one of man and wife, being universal,
 whatever be the age, as seen
and heard in the peacock’s  call
I am fortunate  to perceive
a  picturesque presentation
more or less a  scenically
gorgeous visual that unfolds
every morning,

The intimacy, subtle and chaste
creates a beatitude, hard
to express.