Meadowlark
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Carrie Richards.
There is a lark who is born to live in the meadow,
perched far above the smooth mountain stones.
She will rise from fields of the cloverleaf cradles,
with a foxglove petal, riding her wings.
A feather she's worn, will flutter on down,
to welcome us here, and to tickle our nose.
With a moment to cling, it is soft as a dream;
then it lifts into streams, of the sweet morning breeze.
She must sing from the heart, to awaken the dawn.
Her valor will linger, in the late morning sun.
Her tempo, announces a thaw in the spring,
Bringing a promise, of flowers and green.
Her voice has a cadence, a solo, ascending,
that comes with an encore, tremolos impending,
so fragile, it harks as a piccolo, playing.
She circles at dawn, to wake you and cheer you.
But at sundown, she croons, a soprano to soothe you.
She's a lark from a meadow, that mellows the heart
___________________________________________________________
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment