Sweetly Is This Fresh Tongue Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Swing on high - or on low
Shadows are on the move
New times summer's glow
With its shades to improve
Journeyed long into a deep
Inside the winter's ground
Blossoming not to keep
For each season goes around

Some grows old or young
What the tide is all here for
Sweetly is this fresh tongue
That life's began to explore
Singing songs in roads ahead
Futures footstep not yet seen
Back roads from the gainsaid
Now are lost into the green

Swing on feelings that are felt
With mornings yet to come
There are seasons of indwelt
Where this state came all from
Powers of pleasure on grows
In this garden soon to bloom
Strength of light forward flows
Into winters own secret room

Valleys deep - mountains high
Coming in canonicals flax
Where the meadows wildest lie
In the swaying straws claques
Whisper to me wind - carefree
All your songs and symphonies
That come full of hope and glee
With leaves whiz from the trees