It’s nighttime on the farm.
What has this to do with bees buzzing?
With meadows moaning?
With truth bubbling up in sentences
from ponds delighted to be here at all?
Even the silence grows dense.
The cows nod sagely as they dream.
All this will be milk by morning.
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April 15, 2016 at 5:46 am
Thanks Thomas—It is a rare thing when my poems bring a smile. I relish that.
April 15, 2016 at 2:45 am
Just absolutely morning like…
April 14, 2016 at 11:40 am
I am smiling from ear to ear. Ah, the truth, the truth in this poem. Even the silence grows dense. Oh, reality beyond poetry, poetry catching reality, poetry as reality. Oh my!