The sun sets
over the hills.
The grass blows
in the gentle wind.
The birds twitter
an evening song.
The moon rises
over the vast field.
Our picnic blanket:
the only thing out of place.
We sit there,
quiet as can be,
eating our snacks
being careful not to disturb
the lovely, peaceful evening.
If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
over the hills.
The grass blows
in the gentle wind.
The birds twitter
an evening song.
The moon rises
over the vast field.
Our picnic blanket:
the only thing out of place.
We sit there,
quiet as can be,
eating our snacks
being careful not to disturb
the lovely, peaceful evening.
If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
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