I came across this poem, and I was going to put it in my last post, but I forgot. So better late than never.
Nights Meadow
The mist of the clear moon night,
Cotton layers, quiet, still in flight.
Shrouded streamers thru trees unseen,
Silver lances, braided with unsung green.
The night, soft, tender, glazing unreal,
Darkness taunted with moonlight appeal.
Star light fire, sparkling, crystal clear,
Homeless comets flying ever so near.
My troubled soul, memories bring,
Homeward bound on silver wing.
The meadow is home, my place of rest,
Night time portrait at its very best.
The mist of the clear moon night,
Cotton layers, quiet, still in flight.
Shrouded streamers thru trees unseen,
Silver lances, braided with unsung green.
The night, soft, tender, glazing unreal,
Darkness taunted with moonlight appeal.
Star light fire, sparkling, crystal clear,
Homeless comets flying ever so near.
My troubled soul, memories bring,
Homeward bound on silver wing.
The meadow is home, my place of rest,
Night time portrait at its very best.
by T.A.C.
All is well down on the farm.
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