I was struck by the poem below as I read through the entries in the April poetry contest on GoodReads.com. It reminded me of summers more youthful and innocent.
Emma, the poet, agreed to let me share it. And so, The Meadow, a poem by Emma.
Running my hand along the waist high grass,
I watch a brown sparrow take flight,
Its wings spread so that it might soar.
My skin is warm from the sunlight,
And I let it's warm fingers caress my face.
I breathe in the beauty. For,
Wildflowers also cover the meadow,
Their vibrant colors painting,
vivid pictures as they let the wind blow,
Their soft and delicate heads.
A large oak stands in the center of this glory.
Its great branches stretch to the sky,
Holding it, the bright blue, in its soft leafy palms,
They reach like arms lifted up high,
Trying to capture the sunlight and hold it tight