Where Rare Birds Sing
Golden rays filter through rustling red leaves
Oscillating fall colors to rhythms of evening
Amid sounds exotic as animals roam freely
Deep into wilderness, where rare birds sing,
Where trees groove merrily to musical winds,
Whirling, weaving motifs of autumnal glee;
While leisurely they stroll, exulting playfully,
Exchanging stolen looks of notions romantic,
Divulging, without words, secret love-missives
Lying dormant, yet simmering for some time,
Virgin passions strumming enamored minds
Revealing now openly, fervent beats of life.
“Oh! how I wish” she says, “to live in a cabin,
lingering timelessly, savoring realm pristine,
of blazing autumn prairies, burbling streams,
wandering to spring reveling your company;”
As moonlit vibes sparkle, love in bashful eyes,
Rejoicing first-ever kiss, blissful in paradise.
January 3, 2023
Placed 7th: Feel Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
“Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.” Owens, Delia. Where the Crawdads Sing.
Based on quote 7 above.
Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2023
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