The Soft Dew
On the grass.
Leafy lanes and sweet refrains,
Hills bowing in the mist,
The soft dew on the grass,
That the morning’s kissed.
The wind and waves moan and plash,
Otherwise, it’s quiet,
It’s early in the morning,
After a more relaxed night.
The heat is gone; it’s travelled on,
The embers are still glowing,
The hot weather has travelled north,
Now a southerly is blowing.
In my mind, I’ve left behind,
The travel through the babble,
All is quiet and in spite,
Of thoughts, I like to dabble.
I’ve carved off the deadwood,
And left with a green bough,
It’s called dispensing with the past,
And we are living in the now.
Summer will soon be over,
The autumn leaves will fall,
And I can hear the sound,
Of the peace dove’s call.
All is quiet in my mind,
No niggling expectations,
Just the astonishing soliloquy,
They are pointing in new directions.
Let me live in peace,
Take away the noise,
Sail away on the next ship,
To the Ship Ahoy.
I’m not left in limbo,
Or leaning on a post,
I’ve opted for the quiet,
Where I benefit the most.
©
David Rudder
2024
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