I spoke gently to the Wind
I sang praises to the Moon
I stood firmly under the Sun
I waded deep into a River
I waited patiently by the Sea
I walked tall through a Meadow
I sat quietly beneath a Tree
I whispered softly to a Raindrop
I listened closely to a Flower
I held a Mountain within my hand
I found a Universe in a Brook
I gazed at Clouds inside a Pebble
I strolled a Forest lost in Mist
and when the Day was finally through
and when the Night had finally come
and when the Dawn at last appeared
and when I stood once again under the Sun
I knew that in my Spring, I loved.
That in my Summer, I laughed.
That in my Autumn, I sang.
That in my Winter, I cried
in the blur of a blustery Gale
disquieting everything that Ever Was
blowing in from a restless Sea
blowing down from the boreal North
blowing across every Field
and through every Vale and Town
and when I listened to that Flower
it spoke a thousand scented words
that touched and pierced my Soul
like a flight of spellbound birds
in a dream that left too soon
beyond the far ridge, calling me
on this eternal afternoon.
Copyright © Gregory Joseph Firlotte | Year Posted 2020
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