Spiritual Jewel

Spiritual Jewel

On the edge of a meadow
where the goldenrod grows,
I watch the pines swaying
as the wild wind blows.

The rhythm is soothing
and good to absorb,
a soft light is shining
from the moon's glowing orb.

A Hoot owl has landed
and stakes out his claim,
proclaiming this loudly,
repeating his name.

Soft are the breezes
that tussle my hair,
I wish I could stay here,
it doesn't seem fair.

The moment's so tranquil,
a spiritual jewel;
to keep it a secret
would be very cruel.