= March 21, 1969 =
Listen to the breathing woods,
In the golden mist
of an early evening shower;
Spongy ground beneath my feet,
And living air surrounds
the first Spring hour.
Silver drops from a sun-glazed cloud,
Race towards the fields
that must be ploughed.
The hiding sun in crimson splendour,
Warms young hearts that sing out loud.
The wind still wet, the night grows cold,
And moving darkness hides
the rainbow's crest;
Rosey days of warmth and beauty -
All life awaits to spring
from nature's breast.
Listen to the breathing woods,
Spongy ground beneath my feet;
Silver drops from a sun-glazed cloud,
And fields, that must be ploughed.
In the golden mist
of an early evening shower;
Spongy ground beneath my feet,
And living air surrounds
the first Spring hour.
Silver drops from a sun-glazed cloud,
Race towards the fields
that must be ploughed.
The hiding sun in crimson splendour,
Warms young hearts that sing out loud.
The wind still wet, the night grows cold,
And moving darkness hides
the rainbow's crest;
Rosey days of warmth and beauty -
All life awaits to spring
from nature's breast.
Listen to the breathing woods,
Spongy ground beneath my feet;
Silver drops from a sun-glazed cloud,
And fields, that must be ploughed.
Your poem is lovely. Please visit my blog sometime. Thanks for your comment on global one tv!
ReplyDeleteThank you Betsy. Originally it was one of my songs, but your music would be perfect background for reading any of my poems.
Deletejoy,
walt