Morning Meadow

Iced tea in hand, I quiet my mind and tune my senses to birdsong and beauty. The morning light accentuates the field grasses, standing tall and bright against the shadowed woods, each seed head waving distinctly. A House Wren tirelessly spills music from his treetop, filling the meadow with song, while a Catbird sings from the shelter of a shrub behind me. Crisp butterflies wave their colors over the grasses, like so many flags outside the United Nations when international relations are going well. The book in my book lies open and unread; I am reading the rich world that lies open before me, unfolding with life in all directions. 

A Found Poem of the Former Confederate States of A...
Fall'17 Workshop Series
 

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