The Last Vestiges of Day
Grape vines full and luscious
dripping their fruit in clusters purple
black fertile soil dotted with leaves
and dried grapes fallen.
Hill after hill rolling across the landscape
green with vibrant leaves
shadows of life sheltered from the sun
lay mellow along cool darkened corners
hidden by tall oaks, trembling in the warm
winds of summer.
Barefoot children with laughter
playing hide and seek at purple dusk
sunsetting hues create the palette
for the spidery clouds to reflect
the pinks, orange, and yellows
of the perfect evening
as sounds envelope the last vestiges of day.
Cool soft grass now the color of ebony
scents the air with fresh dampness
of all things glistening and pure.
Crickets sing their night songs calling
for rest in the arms of evening's cradle.
Rock a bye baby, rock a bye
Listen to the nightingale's hymn of praise
Rock a bye baby, rock a bye
Sleep, my little ones sleep
Sleep, sleep, sleep
As God smiles upon His creation.
All is well.
All is well.
All is well...
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1603 times
Written on 2008-08-19 at 04:16
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
kaytee |
|
Phyllis J. Rhodes |
|
weirdzarun |
