What is a poem anyway? Is it the blood from your veins as it spills on to your page? Is it the dance of your heart as your pen glides gracefully away? Is it the ache felt deep inside that we spend all our lives trying to describe?
Today the birds are a little quieter I hear only one lonely quiet chirp Where just a few short weeks ago there was a loud chorus. Gone now are the speedways between our hummingbird feeder and our neighbors. The breeze is much too cool to sit for long without a sweater and the leaves now
I stepped outside for a moment and thoughts filled my heart and mind: If I stand in the west facing the eastern sky I will see a brilliant sunrise with bold colors and the beckoning of the coming day. If you stand in the east facing the western sky you will see a world still
Watching the leavesDance upon the treesI feel my heartReturn to meFluttering softlyUpon the breezeMy heart sings a songOf joy and peaceA love of lifeFilled with grace and beautyToo long buried and hiddenBy the noise of societyAll the fear and pain,They weigh so heavilyIn this broken worldWhere none can agreeOnce again I sit andWatch the leavesAs