The morning held a Royal Mist
that crowned the glowing green rice fields They were fertilised They were ploughed They were flooded and planted and now they grow tall and strong from the earth Green kissed country side where flowing water feeds the ever eager forest to encroach upon us Only constant work and vigil can make the forest bend to our will But it does not break! For it to claim this land would take only a small twist of fate and we would be gone The earth would forget that we walked upon and tilled within and sweated and bled Royal Mist will cover the eyes of history as time ploughs onward to its ever reaching infinity Yet tis fair to struggle on for we must grow to see what is in store for we Like the rice in the field, we can grow green, a healthy color, like the freshness of spring. This freshness if we can but bring All else would come to the green one When you start at the bottom there is no where to go but up If you stay at the bottom, then everything looks giant and can fill you with wonder Like parent of a child or an older brother Perhaps tis better a clear day than a morn of Royal Mist but I wonder what is missed! Clarity lets us see far, tis true, but mist makes us look at what if right in front of you Both perspectives have their value I see only preference, how about you?
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Douglas Karson
I love poetry. Archives
April 2021
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