Beneath the Boughs

Beneath the boughs in a shaded glade, Where whispers form in the dance of dreams; I linger soft while the sun does fade, And thoughts of night weave through moonlit beams.

The breeze rustles leaves with a tender sigh; And shadows waltz with the twilight glow; While the world fades out with the day gone by, A stillness reigns in the soft winds’ flow.

Here nature holds her sacred space, With stories learned from ages long; In every hide and every place, Resides a beauty, wild and strong.

• Wilfrid Wilson Gibson