The Meadow, by Carolyn Coit Dancy

THE MEADOW

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.