Plainsong

By John I. Blair

Spring leaves trace green shadows
Silently on the grass;
And the cool winds combing the hilltop
Blow the wild-sweet song of the meadowlark
High over the land.

Spring flowers spread gold carpets
Shimmering in the sun;
And the meadowlark singing in the sunlight
Calls its joy in life to the grassland
Wide under the sky.

©1964 John I. Blair