TO STAND AND STARE.
An old-world fence that speaks of farms;
We half-expect sheep bleating,
But here we have some beach-side charms,
The sand and ocean meeting.
The Autumn calm is moving in,
Mellow the sun is growing,
The drifting clouds are white and thin,
And soft the breeze is blowing.
I love these gentle Autumn days;
The Summer heat is tiring.
I'll revel in the soft grey haze.
I'll lean on the fence, admiring.
*
*
