Meadow

So tender, the love of the plain, sun melting on the horizon.
Violet, rippling waves of grass kiss and caress
The river is soft, the water clear as night.
Whispering to whatever ears can hear it.
The grasses of the field never forget anyone,
The murmurs of the wind turn soft and soothing as silk
As they flow across bare skin, a lover's touch.
One last kiss of orange and gold light
Illuminating mountaintops and blank-canvas snow.
The wind's voice sings of silent sleep,
And the gurgle of infant's joy, the river's song,
Joins with her sister in perfect harmony.
Cool, pressed grass at water's edge a satin sheet,
Welcoming in its familiar embrace.
The wind's bite a nibble at ears, the earth a soft kiss,
Foreplay to a dream.