Traveler Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Like fields of time
Always renew
To the heights prime
Going here thru

So is this field
In open space
That distant yield
To remote place

In lucid blue
Of the clear sky
Where clouds drift thru
When dancing by

Above grass glows
Of forest jade
Where foliage grows
And earth is made

Like fields of years
In coming living
And love adheres
So full of giving

Are these travelers
Those go with me
In their colors
Of beauty and free