Morning Meadow, by John Moore
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the sky, a vessel
the sun, an oasis
brilliant ambrosia fills the night
with peerless, emblazoned light
the wind calls my name,
tall trees beckon.
here in the hollow
solitude is good company, i reckon.
the crows do (now) of morning mealtime make
a game to doubt their undeserved rue
their example I shall surely follow
laughing here, amidst the glistening dew
what waking hours fun doth hasten
as stretching flowers paint the basin
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Posted: 2015-10-25 02:06:58 UTC |
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