The Meadow

where once I was a field of wildflowers

shaded cool near open plain

caressed by breath of winsome breeze

cooled by kiss of springtime rain

.

summer saw me serried and root bound

in servitude of crumbled ground

oh that you, young traveller

should find me, found

.

patiently in seraphic state

a scintilla of self, I did but wait

with drifting seeds

and scion stretch

yet autumn wasted

to weed…such wretch

.

for the dark, duplicitous skies

disturbed the dance of butterflies

and lured away, through savannah grass

far from my field

you then did pass

49 thoughts on “The Meadow”

  1. Your poem has everything, soft and delicate, strong and harsh, and this stanza is exquisite.
    “summer saw me serried and root bound
    in servitude of crumbled ground
    oh that you, young traveller
    should find me, found”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Any work of art that blends the sublime Nature with Love is beyond any words in praise! I am just going to let this poem entrance my senses, and let gratitude find its way to the poet! ❀😌

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Gracious Isha, gratitude has found me in your words, and I’ll soak here in this bath of bubbled contentment well into the evening.
      May you Monday be a delight, as you have now luminated my night πŸ™‚ ❀

      Liked by 1 person

      1. πŸ¦‹ You are very welcome.

        If I like, I like. If it’s exceptional I almost always comment.

        Sometimes I want to comment but I just can’t express it. So don’t be offended if I ever just leave a πŸ¦‹. – Chrissy

        Liked by 1 person

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