A Soft Summer's Day
We sit by the stream
On this soft summer's day
Entranced by the dance
As the dragonflies play.
A waggle tailed moorhen
Leads young to the nest
While the arrogant Swan
Knows she's looking her best.
In the meadow the mad Hare
Continues the chase
As the Spider weaves webs
That the dew turns to lace.
Overhead, soft white pillows
Cross pastel blue skies
And I gaze with pure joy
As I see skylarks rise.
I look at you sleeping, a smile on my face
And I thank Mother nature for sharing this place.
The silver stream gurgles on it's merry way
As I glory in you, and a soft summer's day.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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Comments about this poem (A Soft Summer's Day by Owain Glyn )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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