Glade
Golden sunlight streaming into the glade,
Leaves and limbs whispering in the gentle wind,
Armies of ants on manoeuvres collecting fallen leaves,
Dove's cooing from their woodland perches,
Evening drawing in as nature works it's magic.
By Christophyeer Tye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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Streaming! With the muse of nature. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.