The Meadow Lies Before Me

The meadow lies before me,

A tapestry of green and gold,

Where the bab’ling brook doth wander,

And the noontide wisps are bold.

The swallows, they do dart about,

Their flight a blur of motion—

They gather insects on the wing,

With effortless devotion.

And on the ground, small creatures crawl,

Their busy lives a wonder.

They toil and spin and build their homes

Amidst the grasses yonder.

Across the field, the grasses bend,

Near trembling aspen trees—

They lean and sway, their forms as one,

Against the whisp’ring breeze.

And so, I pause to gaze upon

This magical and tranquil scene—

And am at peace within my heart,

Beside the meadow, still so green.