A poem for fun! 9/20/20
It’s that time of year again. The sound of honking geese fills the air, as they pass in alignment, to the Deep South.
The gift of summer Is the sound of a Creek flowing through Rocks. A blue bird perched
Misty fog floating through bare trees. Cold waves of wind coarse through the woods whistling as they go
Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,
Holy Holy Morning glory Blooming in a haze Of purple light. Holy Holy
Not sure what to write while the world is on the brink of another war. While others face
To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to
When I sit And watch The in and out Of breath, Thoughts no longer
The white snow lay gently on the ground in a swirl pattern. The sky, a slab of smooth grey stone.
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,
Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light
Lately, a sadness pervades, I mourn for youth, perhaps passion of younger days. With age, some of that passion
Summer is near it’s end, I regret not visiting my childhood home, near the gulf, where the sunset
Dark bulk of a single bird, With red puffed up chest, As winter’s breeze sways his perch…