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Sleepless Sleep MAG
July 7, 2015
I look upon the northern meadow
The horizon a painting
The forest a cavalcade of music
The hums and chirps and bellows
To hear, I strain
The sun melting on the mountains
The stars; cork in black and blue water
The butter melts and all cork arisen
The spooky, melancholy, rich sounds
Enveloping me in a strange deep sleep
Where your dreams are not dreams
But hidden in the thoughts of the past
Something only those behind you experienced
A delve into the past
A dip into better, scarier times
A swim into what was.
© Kyle G., Badger, MN
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I like to think that nature has a past that we can't see, because we're too blinded by its beauty. If we were to see and not look, there would be many stories to unfold.