In Ancient, Tranquil Meadows
Yellow birds in the green summer grass
And sunlight falling softly upon marigolds,
You could close your eyes and dream
You were an Indian
In ancient, tranquil meadows.
Rain dances and peyote visions
Create prayers and mystic wisdom.
There are certain corridors of time
That transport you back
To pristine and ageless beauty.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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