A day framed.  A window wide with

hope.  Dawn drains in silence.  One voice

releases, waiting for return.  A vacuum of

Thoughts rise, surfacing with a schedule;

place, time, one door then another.  Emotions

become firm and braced.  The more the listening,

knowledge enters with a higher plane.  The land is

sweet.  Each step a gift.  Light bends through clouds;

like memories we remember before washed out.

I love open meadows where the wind is the only voice.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s