For my dear friend, Suzanne R. Smith
There’s a little lake near a winter wood,
Hidden under the changing Texas sky,
Where Blue-winged Teal settle in the sunlight,
While the white winter clouds roll on and by
There flies the hungry Barn Swallow’s breakfast,
As the cold Christmas morning mist rises,
Where playful dogs join in the splashing dance,
Near by a field of Suzanne’s surprises.
The call of the Killdeer lifts o’er the field,
And a lane there lifts up for you to meet,
With heart’s hope filled dreamings and violins
While the little lake wets your soft warm feet.
Photo source: Suzanne R. Smith, TEXAS.