A gentle wind rustles 
Through an open plain,
Low and humble—
Quiet, and yet resolute.
A winding river’s wake brushes
Against the valley shore,
Red and crook’d—
Reticent, and yet true.
A southern summer sun glares
Through the leafy branches of an old Oak,
Bright and warm—
Hushed, and yet gallant
I heard you today:
I thought my memories would fade.

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