Post by jbstillwater on Jun 30, 2011 13:41:34 GMT -5
As dusk melts o’er the fields
and honey bee hides from night,
I champion my day,
my love not far from sight.
lights are dimmed, the dogs still ,
cricket’s concerto just begun.
Old bull frog leaps from pond to grass
with song of life - the setting sun.
A thousand nights yet this one best,
she comes, my Apriel, sweet.
Softly through the willow weed,
contented sighs a joyous treat.
For she has stories bound to tell
of night flowers and wise gray owls,
crackle fires inviting play,
then silently she slips away.
Kisses ‘pon my weathered face,
she curls within my arms
and falls into an evening pose
with one last stretch ‘for day light goes.
Lights dim, dogs still,
cricket’s concerto has just begun.
Old bull frog leaps from pond to grass
with song of life - the setting sun.
Janet K. Brennan
June, 2011
and honey bee hides from night,
I champion my day,
my love not far from sight.
lights are dimmed, the dogs still ,
cricket’s concerto just begun.
Old bull frog leaps from pond to grass
with song of life - the setting sun.
A thousand nights yet this one best,
she comes, my Apriel, sweet.
Softly through the willow weed,
contented sighs a joyous treat.
For she has stories bound to tell
of night flowers and wise gray owls,
crackle fires inviting play,
then silently she slips away.
Kisses ‘pon my weathered face,
she curls within my arms
and falls into an evening pose
with one last stretch ‘for day light goes.
Lights dim, dogs still,
cricket’s concerto has just begun.
Old bull frog leaps from pond to grass
with song of life - the setting sun.
Janet K. Brennan
June, 2011
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
