April 16, 2010
Too long to let that
Ancient spirit pass me by
Whisper in the wind
And the crow might fly
Under billowing white clouds
Whirling through the sky
Seeking for a roost
In trees long thought to be dead
Yet their flowers bloom
Mixing shades of red
Against angled and brown bark
This birds's quiet 'stead
Rest the back upon
The trunk of that sleeping tree
Feel the earth below
Yearning to be free
From what rivers there may be
Running to the sea
Ancient spirit pass me by
Whisper in the wind
And the crow might fly
Under billowing white clouds
Whirling through the sky
Seeking for a roost
In trees long thought to be dead
Yet their flowers bloom
Mixing shades of red
Against angled and brown bark
This birds's quiet 'stead
Rest the back upon
The trunk of that sleeping tree
Feel the earth below
Yearning to be free
From what rivers there may be
Running to the sea
posted by Ink and Stone | 2:24 PM
2 Comments:
Spring has sprung, my friend.
Time to mow loans and wash cars.
And mow lawns again.
Nice!
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