Friday, January 28, 2011

The Meadow

Bathed in the light of a full moon,
Shrouded in the mists of a night fog,
A meadow sits quiet and still.
No sound disturbs the midnight calm.

Now there is a rustle,
The fog swirls as a breeze blows.
The meadow grass sways like drunken sailors.
Eddies of mist slip over the quiet brook.

Then a deer comes to drink.
Eyes and ears wary for danger,
Its tail swishes contentedly,
As it drinks its fill and bounds away

Just minutes later the cougar arrives,
Following the trail of the deer.
Its sky blue eyes scan the meadow,
Nose lowered to follow the scent.

Looking up the cougar spots an owl.
A fellow hunter of the night,
Soaring the thermals above,
Watching the ground below.

There’s a silent parting of the grass,
But the owl sees it anyway.
A wild hare sneaks towards the brook,
Oblivious to the threats about.

The cougar slips away slowly,
After bigger game this night.
The owl circles closer and closer,
Tightening in above the luckless hare.

Tucking its wings tightly,
The owl dives like a missile.
A screech, a scream cut short.
The hare dangles lifeless now from its talons.

The moon starts to set now,
As the eastern horizon lights up.
Day is approaching quickly.
Creatures of the night head for home.

The first ray of the sun,
Chase away the gloom of the moon.
Swelling mists coat the ground,
In a sweet morning dew.

Finches in the trees start chirping.
Butterflies alight from all around.
Bees come forth to gather the nectar,
Of the abounding flowers found here.

Sunlight sparkles the back of trout,
Swimming lazily in the brook.
Stones on the bottom,
Dance in the sun’s bright rays.

There in a tree a chipmunk chatters angrily,
As a squirrel approaches its tree.
Already it has stores for the coming winter.
A hoard of food to protect.

Seeking easier pickings,
The squirrel moves away.
There’s plenty to eat this fine fall,
Now its time to play.

Scampering from branch to branch,
Leaping from tree to tree,
Its freedom and spirit,
Is plain for all to see.

Its high noon now.
The sun blazes away the dew.
The daytime animals seek to escape,
And sleep away the day’s heat.

The meadow is quiet now,
Just the babbling of the brook,
The swishing of the grasses,
The rustling of the trees.

As darkness approaches again,
The last frenzy of activity starts.
All the busy things due,
Before the setting of the sun.

Twilight now and all is still.
The first moonbeams spear down.
Fireflies come out to play,
Now that birds are back to roost.

A day in the life of the meadow,
Unchanged since time began.
Simple, sweet, and complete.
Balanced, tranquil, and sublime.

1 comment:

  1. Sweet. Nice imagery. Feels like one of my paintings... I love doing those types of landscapes. I usually use pics I took at Three Creeks camping area near Goldendale :)