Post by Eclipse on Aug 19, 2004 21:47:05 GMT -5
Think I will lay back on propped elbows, in this green down splendor,
(It rained last night, and the grass is fresh)
And watch languid circles of cumulus mold and morph before me.
I pause to steal a breath of the crispy air;
It tastes of autumn, of cinnamon, of apples and their cider.
A sigh escapes; relaxed and lethargic.
The mind is spinning webs of thought, I walk a tightrope
To understand the meaning.
There’s something lonely about the rustle through the leaves,
There’s a lover’s face in the periwinkle sky.
With a longing hunger for companionship.
The sun burns my eyes as I stare up with wonder.
And I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment
With autumn in my hair, and the face in the clouds.
the other pastoral poem.
(It rained last night, and the grass is fresh)
And watch languid circles of cumulus mold and morph before me.
I pause to steal a breath of the crispy air;
It tastes of autumn, of cinnamon, of apples and their cider.
A sigh escapes; relaxed and lethargic.
The mind is spinning webs of thought, I walk a tightrope
To understand the meaning.
There’s something lonely about the rustle through the leaves,
There’s a lover’s face in the periwinkle sky.
With a longing hunger for companionship.
The sun burns my eyes as I stare up with wonder.
And I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment
With autumn in my hair, and the face in the clouds.
the other pastoral poem.
