A Slower Train
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Driving leisurely on the back roads of a pastoral community the sights and sounds of spring come alive.
Landscapes roll before me,
Like carpets of a king;
Lush and green the towering wood, the verdant hills,
The robin's song, all prophets of the spring.
Pastures sweep and dip and spill
into a babbling brook;
Where mellow cattle graze and nod,
How nonchalant they look.
March 24, 2017
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2017
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