RIVENDELL REFLECTION

RIVENDELL REFLECTION

He sits upon a wooden seat
Upon a wooded hill,
The cold, gold sun shines weakly
The air around him's chill.
From time to time, as soft as silk
He feels a whispering breeze,
Caressing gently those few leaves
Yet clinging to the trees.

'Peep-peep-peep' a small bird chirps
Then quickly flitters by,
The tapping of a woodpecker
Comes from way up high.
Leaves lie in a carpet
On every scrap of ground,
Sometimes midst the deeper drifts
He hears a rustling sound.

An old tree climbs above him
A book rests on his knee,
On wooden seat, on wooded hill
He lets his thoughts run free.
The gentle force of nature
Has settled in his mind,
Unlooked for it's provided
The calm he'd longed to find.

COPYRIGHT D M PAMMENT 2009