Meadow

The stars were all but hidden, we could see the Harvest Moon.

The greyest clouds, a pale blue, the sun an orange balloon.

Was quiet in the meadow and no city screams to hear.

There is something sweet and silent in this changing of the gear.

There are wonders and they happen, right before our eyes.

Now I’m tired and I’ll go to sleep cause that would seem so wise.

Dennis Mantin

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