20-20A Poem by Richard WilliamsA poem conceived while on my backyard swing.At dusk the lake is like a mirror the tops of trees are free and clear, the geese search out their bed. A bird chirps to the north of me, perhaps it is a wren; I sit and watch the sunlight flee beyond earth's westward bend. Niagara sends out its sound from beyond the limestone wall, the beauty of the day is found as night begins to fall. Beneath the ebbing gray of sky in air refreshed by rain, the light grows dim but by and by clear visions still remain. © 2010 Richard WilliamsReviews
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