Sitting On The Step

The honeysuckle sweet,
The crimson sunset,
The Bob White's whistle,
The time we can't forget.

The warm evening nights,
Sitting on the step,
The night creatures awakening,
From daylight hours slept.

The crickets snap away.
Their happy little tune,
As we sit and stare
At our glowing moon.

The owl hoot-hoots,
His fearful warning cry,
As little ones near,
Shiver a gentle sigh.

A cool glass of lemonade,
A thought or two of the day,
A longing for tomorrow,
And what it brings our way.

by Hallette Dawson

Other poems of HALLETTE DAWSON (1)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.