The mocha brown back bends,
a brindled face drenches itself
in a full bladed green bouquet
her black-eyed calf strays,
tags another and kick-runs
away, but not far afield.

Yield to the moment
Pasture yourself
in the quiet country’s
peace and grace.
The nodding queen-Anne’s-lace
the spires of cornflowers blue as the sky
Stand and gaze,
bow and graze your soul.
Chew the cud of calm.
Feed enough to move on.

c.Darlene Moore Berg



Filed under Nature, Religious

2 responses to “Pastoral

  1. Wonderful! I’m pasturing in your poem!

  2. Dear Darlene, Beautiful poem and photo. Fits so well with life here in Wisconsin. Thanks, Ellen

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