Sunday, 29 September 2019

A caravan passed
along the line,
a caravan of shadows,
and the gray hills merged
slowly in the dark.
Moments to be watched
and etched in the mind.

The traveler along this path
has made this a customary sight.
He has seen them in the brighter
morning's light;
seen them at dawn
in the rays of the softest gold,
and given them ev'ryday promises to hold.

But these gray hills vanishing
in the advancing night,
and the caravan of shadows
deluding the sight
have ever been the delight.
repeated around the season's flight.


Thank you Douglas +Douglas Smith
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