The Swing

Birds are flying with their silvery wings,

Abandoned by sadness and full of rejoicing.

Their feather is falling off and releasing whispers.

Creatures start running through the quietude

Of the merging colors of the leaves.

Their legs run fast full of yearning

To receive the blessings of their flying companions.

On the swing the feather landed,

Dispersing itself into sweet snowflakes.

 

Their eyes closed as they entered this loud place.

Their feelings are uniting with the whispers,

Waterfall is running through their fur

And soil is caressing their tired paws.

The air is going in and out,

Singing them lullabies

Until they put their heads to rest

And fall asleep.

Reviews

[Chris]

You have a way of bringing others thoughts into a focus ...I followed your thoughts as they merged with my own. I'm glad I paused here with you.

[R.A. Youngblood]

Thank you so much, that was my goal