Today we are invited to write a poem in the eclogue or pastoral form. I don’t know if I did so, but here’s my effort.
Morning in Rancho
It’s an early morning,
made so by the cat,
wanting to check backyard scents.
There’s a lingering fog,
but today my mind
sees only perfection.
Mount Woodson is still
out there, to the east,
unseen but felt.
There’s movement on
that big hill, four-legged
and winged.
Some critters are
hunkering down for the day,
others just now soaring.
I can’t see them,
yet I know they’re there.
It simply takes a little faith.
I have no need to suffer.
Pain is always a choice.
Peace is ever an option.
No comments:
Post a Comment