Sundays In The Countryside Poem by Paul Reed

Your open lands with sweeping air
Await me again with your melancholic embrace
And Sunday-sweet tiredness
In a silence broken only by invisible movements
Of creatures mainly imagined,
Fleetingly seen, if ever
But with harmony tangible and blood-felt,
Restoring the soul with whispers,
All of the good feelings in life reappear at my door
And gently ask to come in
To mingle with my cherished memories and passions,
Transporting me back to happier days.