Meadows

Evening
the gentle time
when fescue is plumed in gold
and birds plumed in softest flame
I hear them settle fold away
their wings their songs
and let the blackbird
sing the sun to rest.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

7 thoughts on “Meadows”

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