The swift scouts of dawn ride in, Their lances flame-tipped. The waning moon shines whitely, Like thin drifted snow-- And the cradled winds sleepily rub their eyes. When all these happening I thought within me that it is another dawn of the day, good morning guys. An impatient horse whinnies-- A dog barks, at nothing. Trails of smoke rise from the kitchen chimney. The air is washed clean; it smells sweet With odors of new-mown hay. A man steps out briskly From the imprisoned dark of the barn, Carrying pails brimful of foaming milk. A woman waits in the doorway; She is young and comely. Mewing kittens are tangled in her skirts; They smell the warm milk. A baby cries softly upstairs.
Posted on: Tue, 16 Jul 2013 07:36:10 +0000
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