ysabetwordsmith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ysabetwordsmith) wrote2025-05-19 09:32 pm
ysabetwordsmith) wrote2025-05-19 09:32 pm
Poem: "A Walking Song"
This poem is posted as a birthday present for Anthony Barrette.
"A Walking Song"
I walk in the morning, the sun at its rise.
I walk up the hill, and I there feast my eyes
On gardens and fields, and the grass growing green:
The loveliest sight that I ever have seen.
I walk in the midday, the sun at its peak.
I walk through the valley to find all I seek.
I pick the sweet berries, I taste the green leaves,
I gather the nuts underneath forest eaves.
I walk after lunchtime, the sun heading west.
I walk by the river, where fishing is best.
I catch a few catfish to hang on my string
And forage some cattails where young blackbirds sing.
I walk in the evening, the sun sinking low.
My baskets are full, and my heart is aglow.
The fireflies flicker, the fox and deer roam;
I walk down the hill toward the lights of my home.
"A Walking Song"
I walk in the morning, the sun at its rise.
I walk up the hill, and I there feast my eyes
On gardens and fields, and the grass growing green:
The loveliest sight that I ever have seen.
I walk in the midday, the sun at its peak.
I walk through the valley to find all I seek.
I pick the sweet berries, I taste the green leaves,
I gather the nuts underneath forest eaves.
I walk after lunchtime, the sun heading west.
I walk by the river, where fishing is best.
I catch a few catfish to hang on my string
And forage some cattails where young blackbirds sing.
I walk in the evening, the sun sinking low.
My baskets are full, and my heart is aglow.
The fireflies flicker, the fox and deer roam;
I walk down the hill toward the lights of my home.
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