Month: July 2015

The Glen

The glen is small

With a little pond

The trees turn yellow in the fall

Waving like a ferny frond.

 

The beauty of nature

Reigns supreme

We all have beauty, I am sure

Even unto the elvish queen.

 

The flowers bloom and blossom

They have a goodly fragrance

I hold them to my bosom

As I sing and dance.

 

Advertisements

The Stream

Gently does the stream flow,

Through the mountain, through the meadow.

Gently blows the breeze above it,

Whispering gently in the ripples.

Gently does the deer walk,

Through the grass and through the rushes.

Gently does the tree look on,

Tall and silent, still and ageless,

Gently does the stream flow,

Through the mountain, through the meadow,

Gently does the stream flow.

The Sun

The Sun wakes us up every morning

As the birds call and chatter.

The Sun warms us up as it moves up top

As we dig and weed in the garden.

The Sun stands above us, high and mighty,

As we eat our noonday meal.

The Sun follows its course, ever westward

As we play and laugh together.

The Sun goes down, calling ‘Taps’

As we tumble into our beds.