The Birds Call Me
I love to walk in the early morning when all is quiet and surreal, when
the world is waking up and the silence is loud with bird calls and the scurry
of squirrels. I always take the same path from home, past ivy draped
dwellings where behind ornate doors people are nestled safe. At the
forest entrance, I stop ,listen deep, the hush beckons to me, calls me
forward and I take my first step in tranquility. Oh, nature so sweet and
raw, it wraps around me, taking my thoughts high up into the tangled
branches of old trees. The green canopy is changing as Autumn caresses
the leaves and the sun is turning each one into stained glass visions of
orange, red and burgundy, each is beautifully unique. I gather many to
press in a book . . . I take up my pen and let the words drip . . .
twirling and swirling
under my feet they all lay-
beautiful in death
________________________
September 20, 2013
Poetry/Haibun/The Birds Call Me
Copyright Protected, ID 09-507-007-20
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Morning Dew
sponsor, PD, Judged 09/2013
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
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