A couple of lines here belong to a friend of mine. This is dedicated to him.
Dew sits quietly amongst the shawls of fertile grass,
As mist slowly lifts in the shimmering golden light and
Delicate flowers quiver, basking in its tender warmth.
Morning sunshine evaporates stalking shadows; banishes
Clouds; allows smiles to blossom on dreaming buds which
See graceful trees wave in breezy, cool-blue skies.
Lazily, the brook bubbles past joyous fields where bees
Drift in search of nectar and birds sing of the clear dawn;
Where butterflies flitter between pastel petals – where
Open grass gives way to angelic, sleeping woods and
Vast slopes stretch up towards the shaft of sunlight.
The valley rises, elegant beyond tall trees, to reveal
Mountain peaks, gilt in the glimmering sunrise;
Framing the scene, their silken shadows embrace –
Protect – the fountain that trickles from the rock, admired;
Yet unaware. The molehills they guard gaze to the
Horizon and dream of one day being strong enough
To carry the snow that glitters beneath bright skies.