Jul 12, 2011 11:28
How I wish it were
The sound of a meadowlark
Drifting in through the open window
Instead of the constant hum
Of modern machinery
A song amid the daffodils
In the garden of a foreign shore
Dewey moss and many fresh shades of green
Evident on the billow through sheer curtainry
Could contentment in this content lie
As late summer blossoms with the wind take flight