Places

November 7, 2011
At night, I see the moonbeams,
so gently they come down upon the Earth.
The Moon, like a dove, is white and serene.
In the wild fields below it are deer, quietly grazing.
An owl swoops for a mouse and lands on a twig.
The silence is broken and the deer leap away.
Somewhere farther along there is a river,
so clear the stars could see themselves.
It rushes over well-worn rocks and branches,
not caring where it goes, flowing for miles.
By the shore tiny fish catch their dinner,
splashing and rippling the water as they eat.
By the river there is a town with clean sidewalks.
It has a park with tall, glowing street lamps.
They watch like sentinels over every inch.
Every slide, playground, and old bench they see.
Their protecting light surrounds it all.
Last of all, in this town is my house.
I love it dearly from the memories shared,
to friends and family who help make them.
A home is no doubt the best place to be.





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