with a twinkle that took my breath away.
So pure, bright, and simple it makes me forget the day,
A day of sweat and blisters, loading bales of hay.
The pure bright twinkle makes thoughts race, my neck tingle
As the hay's rich aroma settles in to mingle,
With the twinkling as the rhythmic traces jingle.
Yes, that pure bright twinkle transported me afar,
So far that the old mule's bray couldn't begin to mar
Tingling imaginings caused by the winking star.
© 1990 Scott Hill Bumgardner