The Meadow, by Carolyn Coit Dancy

Beyond the barn lies the meadow.
The meadow slopes
down hill to Queset Brook
and the pasture where
sheep once grazed.
Here grasses tickle my legs
the gurgling brook makes me laugh
birds sing their hearts out
just for me.
From the footbridge
I toss sticks into the stream
wishing a long journey
for them and for me.
Across the bridge
a whale-sized rock
left by retreating glaciers
begs me to sit and be still.
I stay a very long time.
Here, alone but not lonely
a feeling of connectedness
comes entirely unbidden.
I am part of everything.
Cherished memories
of those childhood days
compel me now to praise
nature’s precious gifts.
Queset Brook still flows
through the meadow and
I return there often
by writing stories.
Writing the stories
only I can tell –
inviting others to explore
the world beyond their door.

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