Ancestral Prayers

My eyes are open to the songs of wind.
My thoughts echoing the migratory cries of summer
Winding its way home.
The soft chiffon of sky is swaddling the bare black world
As my ears capture the rain of star dust
Nourishing another year’s end
With ancestral prayers.

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Autumn nights and quiet woods

Autumn nights and quiet woods,
Mirroring lakes without ripples,
No screams of pain or skid marks
From a life in full retreat.
Only heartbeats, echoing contentedly
Like a retired summer breeze
Inspiring flight in nature’s red wings.

Poetry of Home

I have drowned my soul
In the music of this land,
The Woods, the shores, the hills,
Until I have forgotten how to live
Anywhere else.
The tossing of the sea,
The stillness of sand in silver turmoil,
The storm-beaten trees bent in prayer…
But it is a life worth living
If your soul is on the speaking terms
With Poetry.

The sea is never lonely

I have spent mornings drinking beauty,
Walking along coastal paths
While growing wings
Spun of white surf sprinkled with the gold dust
Of dawn.

I have learned to love the sea’s every mood,
Cast unto rugged gray cliffs
rising steeply from blue coves,
Or Caresses smothered unto white sandy dunes.

But the sea is never lonely,
It is full of whispering, beckoning, moaning
Of some great sorrow
Or great joy,
Imposed upon the land without excuse,
While solitary humans, like myself,
wander, awed and spellbound,
On the outer frame of it.