Treasure Island

Matthew Thomas Donovan


Jewels of the Poor


There is blackness in the sky
Intersected by distant flames
How famous now are burning clouds
That exhale life and breathe again

I think it fine, the dark night sky
So old, its gleaning beams pass by
To cast a line of fate once more
Upon this farmer’s earthly shore

But thoughtful slumber must awake
And so I take up my good rake
To tend the fields beneath the clouds
And whistle under starlight shroud

Submitted: Thursday, May 16, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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