The trees stand tall and proud as if
They stand guard o’er the land
The mountains rise and scrape the sky
Wrought by a heav’nly hand
And as the river winds its way
Through hill and plain and stone
It sings a low, eternal song
Of air and earth and bone
With naught but stars overhead
The way is dark
But not lonely
Salt fills the air
Gulls cry
Wind’s in my hair
Blue sky
The foam rolls along
And the sands shift
In a subtle song
And my spirits lift
The sands swirl bright
And the glass glistens
As with each dropping grain
A moment passes
There is so much that I could say
Of thine deep, wisest eyes
But most that they bring forth the day:
Wherefore the sun doth rise?
Eyes, fathoms deep, and wise.
So oft in sleep dark thoughts abandon me
That in the night I find that I am free
The road is long and lonesome
The prairies wide and green
But on it we can own some
Of the untainted scene
I hear a whisper hiding in my mind
A quiet flick’ring seed of an idea
If only I could manage, now, to find
That which the seed would need to come to be
Hoary frost coats the grasses
And a chill air bites my nose
But to see the roses bloom in your cheeks
Brings warmth to my heart
I have not broken bread with kings
And people of the court
But those for whom the poet sings
Are not of great import
A Poem A Day 