On Louise's vibrant day of birth, She dances 'midst her part of earth. With logs she chops beneath the sun, Her playful spirit's never done. A horse on a stick, in greenhouses near, Where whispers of leaves she holds so dear. In garages she rearranges with care, Then does it again, light as the air. Job lists are tackled with determined grace, As soup, blood-red, simmers, filling the space. She settles with cats, her furry brigade, Their presence a joyful, comforting parade. "Lower your voice," she gently chides, In her world of harmony, where calm abides. A life so rich, so brightly unfurled, In her laughter, the echo of a wondrous world.