I Feel At Ease
Like a nest on a little church
indented in the rocks.
The sky is low.
The twitch
of the air flower-beds –
the passing angels.
And voices like gushing
streams; rivers before the sea.
The day is silent.
The body is growing up –
some birds are thronging.
Copyright © Bozhidar Pangelov | Year Posted 2011
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