By
Bryan Sanctuary, circa 1972-3
The closest and the farthest thoughts,
The oldest and the young,
So summer wings and mountain springs
And cherry blossoms sing.
The meadow sees the grazing cows,
The farmer with his dog.
The winding river hears the frogs
That echo from the bog.
The old stone house with wooden porch,
The farm with cobbled court.
The barking dog, the crowing cock
The door without a lock.
The Earth is such a great green ball,
With happy hillside places.
The woods support the silent folk,
Who shyly hide their faces.
But night reveals these gentlefolk,
Who till the country green,
And laugh at joy and cry at woe,
And share their wine and cream.
And as the full moon sails along,
It filters through the wood,
To light their secret meeting place,
With songs so pure and good.
The smoke-filled air of fragrant moss,
And local herbs delight,
They greet their friends with Nature’s gifts,
And all that’s good and right.
The happy dancing light-heeled people,
Lilt in and out the trees,
And join their hands in forest pledge,
And feel the blessing breeze.
The joyful feast lasts through the night,
With food and games and wine,
The morning comes with purple light,
Then not a trace we find.
The summer wings, the mountain springs,
The lock without a door,
The peaceful ways, the carefree days,
Are theirs forevermore.
