Nestled inland from the lake
the old farm napped in noon-day heat.
A few cows grazed in unplowed fields
on grass knee-high, lush green and sweet.
"They're spoiled you know," my grandpa said,
"but, oh, their milk is good, eh, gal?"
I grinned because I loved it cold
straight from its source au naturel.
Standing near a short wire fence
and shaded by a pecan tree,
I held his hand and gazed at them
while they chewed cud contentedly.
A ways across their pasture stood
a weathered barn with open doors.
Inside, its loft was filled with hay,
much spillage on well-trodden floors.
I'll not forget those summer days
spent on the farm, that cow-filled land.
But sadly what I miss the most
are Grandpa's talks, his gentle hand
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A quatrain is a poem that has four lines for each stanza. It usually has rhyme scheme of abab or its variant, xbyb. Click here for an example. |
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Quatrain Poetry
Contest Winner
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Author Notes
Artwork by Arie R. Taylor, courtesy of Google images.
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