Fields Of The Evening Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My song of the evening is to you
Illumining my thoughts in blossoms
For moments and hours to renew
Forgotten days that insistence hums
Pearls of night and hours peaceful
Fields of dream works never to be
Raw materials of memories that pull
Giving their waves from eternal sea

I realize now what music they give
Each receding morning the futures on
How every life is hurrying on to live
Till there is only - its past in there done
Fields that possess each their miracle
As it awakes each morning to a song
Tunes of the temperament so lyrical
The dances to pulsing - that go along

My song in imaging every small cast
Turning and turning the wheel's tide
Paths of my yearning that has grassed
Now into a song my mind-settings guide