Morning rains

Within the early morning rains
Where Children play
on fresh washed streets
while doves flitter away
slowly in the sun of day
 
along the river’s edge
in the stillness of its tides
paths lead the eye
to thick grain lines
of an old grey oak
Creaking with the wind
by a wood covered bridge
and scent of honey clove
 
sitting silently by a craggy stone
An old man fishes
with eyes of sun and moon
 
he dreams of musical landscapes
of running horses wild and free
of flowing manes amidst
the fields of golden wheat
 
rising from the mountain edge
Leviathans of cosmic minds
giant trees are gathered
with reaching branches
that project infinite healing light
to all lifes living free