A Quiet Place

Beneath white limestone cliffs,

Our spring sent crystal waters running

Along a golden gravel path

With lazy turtles sunning.

When summer days were close and hot,

We gathered new-mown hay;

And in the languid afternoon,

We often slipped away

To sip cold water and relax

With summer's drowsy mood

And rest beneath tall sycamores

In shady solitude.

~ D.A. Hoover