The warm balm of the velvet breeze
Wafts around the bungalow gable
By the sheltering sycamore trees,
Caressing my face at the table.
Soft stepping, white bibbed and black,
The cat settles down in the sun
And on the leaves he lays on his back,
Russet bed by the Autumn spun.
The simple song of the robin red,
Plain chant of the solo singer;
Stepladder up to the hedge ahead,
Standing by for a tasty trimmer.
Black and white and quick and low,
Magpies cruise with crackling chatter;
The cars gone by on the road below
Restoring the peace that they shatter.
Matt Mooney
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oasis-9/
