Pheasant Feathers

It's quiet and peaceful this morning at home
As the wind chime chimes, in the cool crispy dawn
And sitting at rest on my comfy couch
I survey in silence the beauty around
The room is at rest and I am too
Amidst colors and textures, that all come from You
The paintings and people, by the artist's skilled hands
Each a world within, - just like they planned
Many such things are gathered here
And I must confess, I value them dear
Antiques and art that speak of some place
In an innocent world with no knowledge of hate
My refuge, my island, - my hidden domain
Where I like to rest from the press of life's game
It's amazing how it all flows together
Like an urn of wild grass and pheasant feathers

Copyright 2008
Stan Simons/ASCAP