Wing, beak, claw cease
To beat, peck, gnaw, and dig in
And I can hear the silence
Of ice, the flutter of wings calms
Migration of thoughts
Follow the seasons
Even in stillness
The view is always shifting
The spectral birds begin to settle
And I can once again
See where the mountains kiss the
Horizon
And my dreams soar
Into being.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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