Autumn
These are the days of contentment,
When the golden light of a low sun warms the forested hills,
And happiness flows in and around
And through the moments of experience.
These are the nights of hallowed mystery,
When the low fog flows among the trees,
And their tops stand free and dark,
And the full moon overhead is sharply clear within its halo.
When the golden light of a low sun warms the forested hills,
And happiness flows in and around
And through the moments of experience.
These are the nights of hallowed mystery,
When the low fog flows among the trees,
And their tops stand free and dark,
And the full moon overhead is sharply clear within its halo.
posted by Carl | 2:18 PM
1 Comments:
Carl, this is a great poem. You should write more and post it here. :)
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