by the Stream . . .

by the Stream

as we lay upon the blanket

that lays upon the grass

under the Tree which weeps

as it’s willows reached

to touch the earth

there was a certain ease

that lazy afternoon

Mother was busy conducting the Orchestra

of beauty

of life

just for us

and the Sun applauded brightly

the Chirping Birds, and the Crickets

the Butterflies and the Bees a humming

and the Ants

all played their part

perfectly Que’d

to our concordant heartbeats

while the Stream streamed

her lyrical melody

we were aware of movement

in things

some were in the undercurrent

of consciousness

thought was not required here

for the Smörgåsbord of verdant fragrances

and scents of life

displaced their necessity

as we indwelled

in the realm

of our Heaven

there was no more

unleavened bread to eat of

for sorrows have taken leave

all i could possibly sense

was you and i

and Mother’s Holy performance

as we lay upon the blanket

that lay upon the grass

under the Tree that weeped

by the Stream

© 6 March 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.