The Lane
By birksy
The lane, framed by evergreen, sits in shade, the hushed air scarcely moving the lightest leaves. Natures sounds float in from gardens, full of bloom, the grass awash with green, that waits the days first footfalls. I stand amidst this scene, in awe of sights not spoilt by our own greed, and I want to stay awhile, keeping guard lest simple things should fall beneath another’s gaze. Then, when at night, I find my soul still resting here, I need not ask what more I need, for, like the leaves, I need not move at all. Written December 28th, 2001 © on Dec 28 2001 12:06 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 10
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"The lane, framed by..."