Limbs
Beneath a galloping wind
I am gathering fallen twigs and
other broken scrub.
Suddenly, head bent to this
thoughtless labor,
I am aware,
now upon my unheeding skin
fox ears prick up.
The pink shells
of seeking fingertips
trace my shoreline.
An ocean spills over
the walls of my heart.
Flocks of Robins shower down,
a gift from the racing sky?
Swift time is confounded,
I am transfixed.
This very windblown acre
instantly revealed,
as just one more feature
within a sky-wide heaven.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2023
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