Muire ... Golden Hour - By Dan'l MclLhenny

We traveled out a dirt rut road 

Amid throws of golden hour 

September woods rapt a glow 

Showing off this Sunday evenings blend 

Where nature shares her fertile luscious goods 

Along a winding half a mile drive 

  

Every turn another snapshot 

Squeezed into our willing minds 

Beauty… carpe diem finds 

A lucky guess, we confess, wearing sunset smiles 

Then before us, rests a rustic home 

So familiar – could it be? 

  

The very one the singer spoke of 

While his lifetime set the scene 

Not a dream at all… but real 

Our footsteps crunch brittle leaves 

Autumn discards dot the path 

Leading to a covered porch 

  

Part of a crafter’s aftermath 

Designed from hand hewn log 

More spacious through aging windowpanes 

Then the mind may first allow 

Latched tight to bar intrusion 

We resign, we sit and share a bit of time 

  

Bent wood chairs offer rest 

Near the door a treasure chest 

Little notes begging to be read 

Admiring everything a family… 

Thought to do all through their life 

For the sake of nature’s living things 

  

Meadow after meadow 

The forest spans thick between 

Grasslands, trees, then jagged, granite peaks - above 

There in blushing daylight's end 

As if ‘tis understood… unsaid 

Upon this vibrant, thriving, rooted, peaceful ground

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