Language of Calmness
A fading sunset warmly glows
On woodland touched by Autumn’s clay
And trickling down, a soft rainfall
Beneath a copper frame of sky.
My humming senses grasp the winds
Like keepers in a serenade,
To taste a calmness that renews
Ripe budding of soul’s gentle drift
Mellow the sound passing through shrubs
A constant wait for moon to peep,
That silence holds its own language
Where grasses meet my eyes, humbled
By tincture that heals sweet forgiving
Through graceful bows of newborn leaves.
I lay between the straws of light
Till downhill walk takes me back home.
In the Woods Contest, Caleb Smith
by nette onclaud
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2013
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