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Subject: In Golden Meadows Author: JulPisacane [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 12:03:41 11/08/09 Sun In Golden Meadows In golden meadows, the wind doth blow Among flowers and trees, a silent flow Blessing God’s earth, and majestic sky Where birds always sing while soaring high Perpetual breeze will come and go Comforting presence this we know. It has been with us since long ago, Moving at dawn and when the sun sinks low Playing in fields and under trees where we dream In golden meadows. Cooling us off as we run to and fro Carefree like us, with no troubles though Lifting our spirits way up high That we can laugh and smile without asking why We run with the wind, where the wildflowers grow In golden meadows. Julie Pisacane © 2009 [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[> Subject: Thanks Julie for bringing back memories Author: Hillbilly [ Edit | View ] Date Posted: 13:30:59 11/08/09 Sun A a young boy I, with brothers and cousins used the tall sage grass as hiding places and ambush spots. It was serious drama as we played cowboys and Indians. From time to time is was our hide and seek landscape where finding another was truly a challenge. It was also one of the best places to find grasshoppers for our hooks as we prepared for the bream in the ponds close by. More recently I have watched with quiet joy as my twin grand daughters play tag with their two twin goats out in the pasture where the golden sage grass reaches above their heads. To hear their innocent squeals of laughter brings such a wonderful break from the cares and dangers of the real world. God has truly blessed me and for that I am grateful.

[> [> Subject: There are only Author: JulPisacane [ Edit | View ] Date Posted: 17:09:04 11/08/09 Sun a few meadow memories that I can recall. But I am glad for the few I've been given. They were perfect days- the way I understood perfect back then ... Glad this one stirred up a few for you. God bless you always, Julie

[> [> [> Subject: I wish every child Author: Hillbilly [ Edit | View ] Date Posted: 15:50:38 11/09/09 Mon had a meadow to play in as I did. You create your own worlds in a good meadow. Seemingly endless things to explore. Rabbits to scamper and dart here and there. Bob White quail rising with a startling thunder of noise as 12 to 20 beat their wings furiously as they rise out of perceived harms way. Meadowlark nests hidden in the clumps to be discovered and watch the little fuzzy chicks get completely still at your presence. A box turtle here and there. A maze of little animal trails to explore. On and on I could go and your wonderful poem brought these memories back to me. One day possibly another gifted writer will write as you have and bring memories flooding back to Miriam and Tirza as to how much excitement, fun and adventure they used to have playing in the sage grass with the goats. Hunting lizards and frogs (yes Pop has introduced them to many of God's smaler creatures and they love them), catching bugs (especially lightning bugs at dusk) and chasing those colorful butterflies. As I swiftly age I delight in their exuberant youth and the excitement they enjoy at Pop and Granny's. Thank you again for those memories Julie. I know your poem wasn't written with all this in mind and adults look at fields and meadows differently than children but these memories and thoughts came back to me as I viewed the meadow through your words. God bless

[> Subject: What a great thing to read, HB and Julie Author: dori [ Edit | View ] Date Posted: 12:18:23 11/19/09 Thu Your memories, stirred by the beautiful poem Julie wrote of HER memories, sparked memories I had of playing outside in the yard. We didn't have a meadow to play in, but there was a field next door that Mr Beeabout rented to plant corn, tomatoes and beans in and he let us have lots of tomatoes (under mom's supervision of picking them) and we'd sit on the back step with a salt shaker and eat them out of our hands. They were still warm from the sun. The front part of the field had tall grass and we'd cut across it to go to school, wearing a little path. I was so sad when Mr. Beeabout stopped gardening there and someone moved a house in there. Such fond, bittersweet memories you evoked, Miz Julie. Thank you.