In a Field At Night
The fog that lay upon the field at night
did cast a haze; the moon, so fresh its light
was shining bright across the stony ground.
The voice was wet with rain across the sound.
The trees were hidden well behind
the clouds, I saw the fleeting mind
and God, if real, was there. So soft
and true his painting held aloft.
Copyright ©
Jake A. | Year Posted 2016
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