New wind weaves the willow wood,
the sleeping vines entwined,
stirring deep damp forest thoughts,
in natures timeless mind.
New rubies are the grass bourn dews,
the river dons her morning hues,
as she, without a backward glance,
runs on in winding happenstance.
The silvered mist, still caresses, clings,
to sleepy moss grown shadowed things,
and looks askance, at the advance,
of sparkling sunlight's water dance.
The night, reluctant turns away,
to hide her face from newborn day.
To bide her time with practiced art,
until time once more to play her part.
God smiles. Shoal river morning.
The night reluctant turns away To hide her face from newborn day..Beautiful lines stephen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sorry I misspelled your name Rini shibu. Auto correct got me