[snippy_about_it]

Nice poem. Thanks for the ping.

[Soaring Feather]

When little children come to play
on mossy glens by light of day
laying down a lowly path
casting magic in the air
on the night and everywhere
to the whispering winds by dusk
in starry nights the little ones trust
and in mirth and merriment do they
scatter dew drops on the hay

bentfeather
a/k/a LMH
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