Sun slowly dipping in the western sky;
the winds are light and the pine boughs tossing.
From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy,
walk to the river; time for the crossing.
To the fields above, to graze for a meal;
prance through the meadow, always listening.
Hear the Blue Jay; alerting all with zeal.
Just twilight now, time to make the crossing.
Squirrels have disappeared, gone to their beds.
Barn Owls glide by upon whispering wings.
Night animals stir, sleepiness now shed.
Stand on the bank, hear the cicadas sing.
Enter the cool waters, off to be fed.
Browse til dawn, then return to the crossing.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and poet from New Hampshire, now residing on the southern plains of Oklahoma. Ken enjoys music, writing and spending time with his cats Willa, Hemi and Turbo. He has one poetry collection, “The Cellaring” and is Co-Editor for 2 poetry anthologies titled, “Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze” and “Dandelion in a Vase of Roses”. His work can be viewed in The Burningword Journal, Scarlet Leaf Review, Black Poppy Review, The Blue Heron, EMBOSS Magazine and more. Ken has three Pushcart Prize nominations and two for Best of the Net 2016-2017. He loves life!
Lovely!
Thank you so much!
Very nicely done!
My thanks Fr. Libby!
A very nice poem
Much appreciated!