A grassy meadow tendrils unfold
In the light of a summer’s day
I wake, soft sounds untold
Hushness keeping dreams at bay
Bird song and morning flight
Moving across like splatters of paint
In hues of dark and bright
The meadow calls, a sound so faint
Be still, the waking mind
Move with the gentle rain
Morning light, playful and kind
Creeping up the meadow’s lane
A memory of yellow and gold
Invites a burst of song
Seek south, the warm wind blows
A day to us belongs
(Poem by Cheryl Silvawood)
In a Land of Giants 
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