Simple things that come to light
Like fireflies dancing in the night
Rheumatoid fingers of the great oak
Gnarled with time that gently poke
The mist of fog upon the land
And common grounds of God and man
Pondering on this nature trail
Words that come and never pale
Beauty in this peaceful marsh
Wrapped in arms of fog that wash
City smut from lids left heavy
Feet that whisper pads to levy
Wages free with no pretext
Peace and quiet, none to vex
Imaginings that come and go
Let it in and out it flows
Breaths so pure
On these moist grounds
Crickets kiss their legs for sound
Ghost of the woman, hair of moss
Draping in grays, nothing the cost
To witness this canvas
Of nature sublime
Before it is lost
From wages of time
It seems dear Susan, as we get older, (not you of course you have an ageless beauty) but I anyway take more of a notice in the simpler things around me. The soft gentle flames of a campfire, a full moon perfect in it's symetry, a storm tossed sea and the visions of the past that haunts the future. Excellant poem sweet Susan.
hugs
fee
Love your plays on the ravages and riches of time in this piece, Susan. As always, so well observed and poignant. Your soul communes with every element of the world at large. And your gift of personification renders everything animate and inanimate almost like a personal friend! TY Kate xx
Potential meets purpose for great accomplishments in the life of a young student.
A young student is interested in learning coding programs. He applies and is rejected because of his age. He does not give up and tries again and is accepted. Eventu
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Ron
hugs
fee
Beautiful. Love, Pierre
Peace & Love
William
God bless you. Kathy
nice...
Art Sun...
Walt
Blessings & Happy Holidays,
Joyce B.
Love Tinka