Poem By David Taylor
Gentle rolling hills flowing into stardust fields
that sparkle in the early morning light of dawn
with golden rays that kiss the hardened frost
on soft and gentle graceful clinging moss
which covers ragged stones carved and formed
by glacial flows such long and distant times ago.
A stream trickles quietly on its way with music as its theme
a downward path towards the stardust fields
where sheep with winter coats grazing on grassy slopes
give way to cows that lie on sheltered pastures
hedged and tree lined to keep at bay the winds unkind.
As the sun increasing in its power warms the hallowed ground
and the hearts of men and beasts as all around
the gentle morning light seeps and flows without a sound.