fog flowing downhill like carpet
rolling in canopying soft sweep
i touch blade of grass, it's wet
love by cows atop a hill mowing
swinging tails, heads lifting
wary to my presence, watching
colorful birds serenading morn
busy beaks in search for a worm
hopping from tree to tree; sling
silence in row of houses in valley
so quiet i am in a farm on sunday
so as crystal water draining away
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