The Open Field
Birds chirping, chirping loud,
On large trees, touching the clouds.
Near trembling wet grass,
Scared of the coming cold,
Holding hands of small old pond,
With some algae and mold,
Ants crawling on dead brown logs,
Walking in the open field,
On a bridge made up of grey stone bricks,
Completed with a touch of gravel and rocks
Copyright © Arastu Goyal | Year Posted 2023
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