Storied Lands [Sonnet / Idyll]

In mountain meadows, bleating sheep abound,
and green grass grows as high as their hunger
allows -- about as high as cricket grounds,
but I am lost in fantastic wonder.

It seems to me this is a storied land,
not merely grazing space, but where dragons
once flew, and one might see giants, firsthand --
a place that's never known a plow 'r wagons. 

It's where magic must once have arisen,
if ever such a place had existed --
where sparkling streams still burble and glisten
whose secret is kept ever tightfisted.

If you stumble into this storied realm
don't let its siren sight overwhelm.

2 thoughts on “Storied Lands [Sonnet / Idyll]

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