Shining bright, great sun is high
Sky so clear and blue
Riv’lets trickle over rocks
Moistness is the dew.
Infinite does seem the way
Many seem to go
Those that look so deep inside
Never seem to know.
Color sways as breezes blow
Bob-o-links do fly
Buttercups are out there too
Reflecting in the sky.
Meander through the fields of grass
Take the whole scene in
Rest upon a pleasant hill
Banjos then begin.
Surface thoughts that float along
Often plucked at will
Take a thought and put it down
Then the breezes still.
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