Content
The smoldering sward of pastures old
Brings in the fertile soil and new molds,
As the later ones break from the scorching heat
Mistakenly buried in a field of peat.
Seeds found; and brushed gently
As a result of the burning melody.
Clouds form and let loose with rain
Nourishing the turf; once in pain.
Now the weeds dig in; stopping the earth from eroding
And start nourishing; plant life exploding
With a plethora of vegetation and trees begin to grow
Imploding the roots bestow
A foundation of the greatest depth
So grim becomes a favorable net
And finally ones meadow cannot be windswept
So one can take a seat and be content.
Copyright © Paul Keenan | Year Posted 2011
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