“Looking At The Garden” Poem

“Looking At The Garden”

The morning mist entwines and folds
Around the trees, stark and bold
No sound is heard all quiet and still
Deserted landscape cold until
The sun ascends and breathes its fire
Unto the arbour, lawn and briar.

So slowly does the garden wake
The birds start singing at daybreak
The foxes from their lairs appear
To stretch themselves, they show no fear Of man who glances at the sight Of mornings clear, and days delight.

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