Submitted by John Ford
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All is still, no leaf makes a sound,
the moon tries in vain still to shine.
The dew on the grass catches early sunrise
and turns to a silver mist cloak for the ground.
The lake is a mirror reflecting the sky
not one little cloud steals the scene
the beauty and silence cannot be described
yet its only reality’s dream
The boisterous stream seems to echo the silence
peace is peace for a moment undisturbed
then the Sun brings the quiet morning to an end
yet still morning is my first love my best friend.
Poet's Corner 