**an Audible Sigh Poem by Ernestine Northover

There is a scene, I know it well,
It’s down the road twixt hill and dell,
No finer place could you e’er find,
For leaving your doldrums behind.

Vast oak trees spread across the road,
Making an arch in tunnel mode.
While ivy climbs around their bark,
Making their wholesome trunks less stark.

Grasses whisper and gently sway,
One distant donkey starts to bray.
Birds sing aloft in branches high,
The breeze gives an audible sigh.

A peaceful place this scene I know,
Nothing disturbs its tranquil flow,
I rest beneath the boughs that shade,
As humble cows munch in the glade.