by Sharon Winter
Could I find some virgin land
Where lakes are green and reeds are tall
Where naught but bird’s feet mark the sand
And wild things to one another call,
Some spot where I, alone, could view
The sun arise anew each day;
Observe each bright and changing hue
From morn’s pale mist to sun’s last burnished ray–
Another clime where trees thrust high
And mellow light sifts gently through
While soft winds pass with but a sigh
And shadows cast are deeply blue,
Then would I silently commune
With all about me, free and calm;
At dusk, reach out toward stars and moon,
And nevermore be known to Man.
Forum Literary Magazine 