A vagabond
Rests awhile
Atop green movements
Of pasture.
Meadows
Grasp their silence
In tune
To the tract of land
Above this shelter
Of feeding cattle.
The scenery is clear.
Mountain peaks raise freely
Their heads
In view
Of heaven’s dominance.
There is still
A lighter shade
And color
In the dark half
Of the horizon.
DEEPER LININGS 
I wish I was there right now. A pastoral poem in the footsteps of Wordsworth!
lovely and peaceful….there is a great serenity to just sitting there and watching this…really nice descriptions…
Hello there Dennis,
It’s been such a long time since I came across the word ‘vagabond’, and I realize how much I like it. So much better than any of the alternatives and carrying overtones of rebelliousness and choice of a special way of life.
Individual word choices are so decisive in poetry. In fact, they are half the battle.
Such a clean and convincing setting.
nice…i really wouldn’t have needed the pic necessarily as you painted the landscape well with your words
Ummm…definitely.
Just ready to go to sleep, and then this.
Wonderful, really.
Every vagabond should rest in a place like this, at least for little while.
“Meadows grasp their silence”
Nice!
really lovely!
thanks for participating at Poetry Jam!
The very peaceful image you chose set the tone for the loveliness that followed …
Lovely capture…a pastoral mood! Well written!