a fist full of flowers and leaves and sap-sticky fingers. wondering when the sky will break it's clouds like a dragon's backbone. shadow maker, the sun pours her amber light and the river glitters dreaming of journeys. hearing nothing but the birds, my own footsteps like devotional vibrations, and the language of the trees im trying so hard to learn.
4 comments:
i have had the pleasure of seeing your fist full of flowers so i get images while reading your beautiful words here now...
**
Observer
By Naomi Shihab Nye
I watch how other things travel
to get an idea how I might move.
A cloud sweeps by silently,
gathering other clouds.
A doodlebug curls in his effort to get there.
A horse snorts before stepping forward.
A caterpillar inches across the kitchen floor.
When I carry him outside on a leaf,
I imagine someone doing that to me.
Would I scream?
In the heart of the day
nothing moves.
No one is going anywhere
or coming back.
The blue glass on the table
lets light pass through.
Something shines
but nothing moves.
I watch that too.
wonderful words again dear friend, wonderfuly written
Thank you thank you thank you for your words.
Something so deep and wonderful is happening to you
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