by Ron Reed

At the meadow’s edge
I rest
leaned against a Cotswold wall
the toil of Romans
10 centuries ago.
Shaded by a grand oak
that has seen 2000 seasons
I rest and ponder.
The only sounds
the leaves of the great Oak
clapping in the breeze
and sheep baying from the valley
what is their chatter?
The morning mist hugs the ground
The curtain that will open to
reveal the opening act of a new day.
You are near me
without touching
I can feel your heartbeat
I can see your smiling eyes
contemplating nothing
and everything in a single thought.
The rich green meadow,
the clear blue sky
that hides behind the mist.
You warm my soul
you give me vision, hope.
At the meadows edge
I rest
next to you.

©Ron Reed 2015

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