In the heavenly fields so gay and green,
They dance and rustle, under the sky so serene!
Under the stars bright and low,
Under suns high-some three in a row.
In the heavenly fields there's a church on the hill,
Where a bell no longer gives a trill.
It sits in silent vigil
Upon that grassy hill.
Beneath the greatest God the prairies sit;
the only God. Where there runs a little kit.
Fields run on to the edge of the earth
And sit in our hearts near and within a fire's hearth.
I long to fly above those fluttering grasses
And reach the reachable star, its Man in its masses.
My heart would be peaceful and calm,
Even just standing in that heavenly balm.
In the heavenly fields lay many secrets of old,
Where cows graze and horses run even in its bitter cold.
When the snow falls and rolls in straight mists through the thin wood,
I would be out all night if I could.
In the heavenly fields, God gives the glorious sunsets
On days when years start again in the colors of many yellows and russets.
I love these gifts He presents
In those golden and fiery sunsets.
The dew would cling in the scents of hay and the morn'
As the first ray of light breaks the night's gentle scorn.
The morning dove would sing
And the church bell would wish to ring.
In song we may sing for it
In pews or fields, we may sit.
God only cares for our mind and heart,
And that we never drift apart.
YOU ARE READING
The Poems of Magic
PoetryMagic can be many things: the last rays of sunlight calling out to the fireflies who want to catch it, the ocean, which holds more secrets than we do, and the simple love of the simplest things. Everything has magic in it, light and dark, good and e...
