At sunrise the heron soars effortlessly upon the breeze
waves roll in crashing upon the rocks and beaches
rising tides reach high upon the sands then fade away
the sun breaks through my window and kisses my cheek.
Round and round and round the great circle of life travels;
much like a whirlpool of bubbles in a small woodland stream.
Day turns to night; night to morn, as clouds migrate on their way
the misty morning rings the bell and the deathbeds overflow.
Into autumn's burnt ashes and all the saddened masses;
It was winter's chill when my spirit lifted; my heart thrived;
from a dead frozen shard, and my soul was forever freed.
Just because you're breathing doesn't mean you're alive.
At sunset the heron soars effortlessly into a colorful twilight
the waves now whisper to the rocks and sandy beaches
great tides fall slowly as the full moon rises in a pink sky
a lullaby rocks me to sleep as moonlight kisses my cheek.
Copyright © Ken Allan Dronsfield | Year Posted 2020
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment