Concealed on the edge of a sunlit pool,
An old mill performs its daily chore,
Its wheel rotating like an enormous spool,
Water churning with a clamorous roar
Into the river, that passes by,
Where swans and ducks move with no rush.
The insect and the butterfly,
Play gaily in this gentle hush.
The rhythmic turning of this wheel,
Is so mesmeric in its song,
And so a drowsy spell you feel,
As one sweet afternoon is gone.
The bees they hum, the birds declare,
And all is calm, and peace prevails,
And one becomes highly aware,
Of a host of fluttering swallowtails.
I love your beautiful style in this, and in general You have a wonderful gift, infact...you have many wonderful gifts Love duncan XXX
A delightful write; the peaceful and gentle hush has been gracefully presented.
What a beautifully peaceful poem Ernestine! A well needed peace today! So glad to have read it. Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wbat a beautiful place you've painted us here, I wouldn't mind that place being my daily grind. -chuck