In The Right Place Poem by Ian Bowen
In The Right Place
Meadows, danced with the beams
of an early-to-rise sun.
Among these pillars of dusty shafts,
speckles of the harvest,
floated in a whimper of a breeze.
A stream of steam, from a stream,
streamed upwards, and vanished.
A lone willow dipped its arms,
and trailed into the cooling waters.
Life was now waking, washing its eyes,
ready to join in the glory of a new day.
The poet stopped, sat...and wrote.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 7:23:11 PM # 1.0.0.1119
what can i say? john