|Send me the glory of a summer’s day,
over those wet and wooded hills.
In each raindrop, a bright diamond concealed,
Waiting as a daisy - for the Dawn . . .
For the crescent moon clings, like a spider
on a web, to the cold night sky.
Stars pulse, fireflies in this celestial gloom,
like prayer lanterns for the dead.
Let Dawn’s nimble fingers light up each leaf
and conduct the birds to choir.
Southward winds breathe life into the sky! Waft
the smells of steaming greenery!
But the days grow short and the winds blow cold;
Stones snap and saplings pull close.
Shrouds of listless fog smother the bleeding foliage
While caging drizzle dulls the falcon’s wings.
I acknowledge it's probably a bit OTT takes something from the Wordsworth I was reading.
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