Speculative Rhyme

(A Work in Progress.)

Full moon
Behind the mist
Above the limbs
Of sleeping trees.
Midnight noon
And I wander
Along the trails
Of fallen leaves.
Now and then
I stop to ponder
Why the soul
Of heartache weeps.
Could it be
Love is no answer
To the whole
Of human needs?


Bright sun
Melts the mist
Above the peak
Of highest mount.
Night is done
And I listen
To the sound
Of distant fount.
Birds sing
Dew drops glisten
And all creation’s
Praises mount.
And I know
God’s love’s the answer
To the nation’s
Age-long Drouht!