While winter besets far realms Down Under,
Stonehenge at dawn augurs heydays ahead.
People of the land dread windblown thunder,
Yet long for rain tap-dancing upon farmstead.
See trade winds carry billows of Sahara dust.
They whisper bold yarns of ancient mariners
In search of untold fortunes rapt in gold lust,
Often shipwrecked or set upon by buccaneers.
Many a time it’s the muddled paths in life
That lead to accomplishment and prosperity.
Ergo success achieved absent ample strife
Is duly short-lived, with contentment a rarity.
Whenever breaches of peace nudge serenity
They also sway wisdom and spiritual clarity.
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| Midsummer Muddles (Haw River near Bynum Bridge in North Carolina USA) |
