I sit here in this chair
and stare at sky and trees,
glory in deep greens,
blue fading to white while night
gathers his cloak to shroud days story.
Symphony of sound resounds
from roof to twig.
There’s nothing but the best here,
deepest rest from fear.
Pride pounded out,
plied loose by love’s flood
shed in tears of gratitude.
Life’s loudest hullabaloo,
lambasting
liquid
lullabye:
lilting lift
of mockingbird fit
sent soaring to the sky.
Never wonder why.
Simply sigh,
crying,
flying along the sound,
the pounding
of night’s ponderous dance.
jrk © 5/30/03, 2009
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