Little bird bobs its fan tail to
the music of the universe.
Leaves as
autumn spirals;
delicate scraps
of colourful paper
falling to the water.
I want to write on them
the meaning of it all
in a single symbol
& watch them float downstream.
A smell of salt from freshwater
frolicking round rough rocks
& down slight slopes;
still & ever moving.
Profound fatigue
doesn’t matter;
cushioned by earth,
no need to shift.
The little bird
on its pinch of a perch
in the midst of rushing water;
so still,
when normally so jittery;
calmed by the movement of water.
Bathing beauty in cold current;
those precarious spindle legs
could be dashed away at any moment;
what joy
to bathe
in fear
& exhilaration
at the waterfall’s crash
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Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: November 11th, 2021 03:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, Coyote.
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Comments2
Such lovely words . Beautiful read ! Flows with ease
Beautiful! This is an amazing poem. Loved it🙂
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