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A Spot On The Prairie It was the bluest noon in June Without the slightest hint of breeze I stepped upon the tawny plain Circled by mountains high and steep, In silence I trod with calm and ease. A slumbering cabin came into view The sides and roof splintered with age I stepped inside the lazy door And felt the hair creep upon my head. Gossamer ghosts hovered above the floor Like every fairy wheel and thread, long Fingers of light shone through the cove. No robust phantom lingered there Only sunbeams that danced on silver dust, My hard breathing ceased, my joy increased As I drank of the stillness and peace |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2006-07-04 18:47:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88889
Mazza
Lovely imagery here.
I enjoyed this.
Hugs
Mark