In the shine of the moon,
Little could be seen,
But the most beautiful of sights.
The first was one of the most simplest of scenes.
The most common,
Yet one of the most beautiful.
With his many twisting branches,
The tree against the dark blue sky,
Just barely covering the glowing moon.
Another was just as simple.
Not quite rare,
Yet not quite common today.
It was under the tree in a little bush.
In a spot were the dim light barely reached.
A large rabbit and it's three little babies,
All rolled up and in a the deepest of sleep.
Not far away from the sleeping family,
Was yet another one of the sights.
Though high up in the sky,
It wa believably the most aristocratic.
The Great Horned Owl,
Outlined in the sky,
Flew beyond the tops of trees,
With the sky no longer the limit.
Beneath the aristocratic owl,
Is one of the crowning sight,
And the closing one for now.
The babbling brook flowed onward and dared never to stop,
Sing it's song day and night.
It's duty was commanding.
The babbling brook had to keep all of the scenes alive.
It must let the tree's roots,
Soak water from the ground that was put there by the brook.
It must let the little bunnies and the rabbit,
Come to it with protection to acquire water to guzzle.
And it alows the owl to swoop down from above,
To gather fish to eat.
So sometimes the simplest and most beautiful of sights,
Are the most important as well.
 Lumiere Cachee · Tue Jun 26, 2007 @ 03:48am · 2 Comments |
If Nothing Last Forever...