Yes
I know
It is
As you told me so
I see your soul
It flits like ghosts
Your head talks
A dark cold host
Do what you say
I give you all
Take it from me
Do not fall
Walk to light
Its there you see
Come, walk fast
Walk to me
Be free
Could that ruby-throated hummingbird be God?
Fanning smiles-igniting sighs in brief thimbles of time.
To help temper the graying emptiness of our swirling lives.
Then just as quickly God flits away with our pinkish sighs.
Leaving twin pits of black and blue endless emptiness.
The little robin hops with its chest so red.
Searching for grain and pieces of bread.
She tilts her tiny head and sings a song.
She flits so fast she's but a flash of red.
Copyright © 2026 by Crystal David John
L. Milton Hankins
Flits about in south-central West Virginia,
Fluttering gossamer wings, wondering in grace,
Hovering his colorful feathers in the United States Air Force,
Where he served for four years in the beautiful state of Hawaii.
He received his baccalaureate degree in history;
Later obtained his master's and doctoral degrees in theology.
His coat glistened with iridescent hues most easily seen
In the brightest sunlight, his fleeting views were enraptured in poetry.
He prized his poetic butterfly’s conversation,
Enamored with those presentations, wanting to hold you.
He displays colorful beauty that surpasses
Even Mother Nature’s finest creations.
His lovelier shades always created a blend of love and pleasure.
At dawn, a heron
stands
stitched to the reeds;
one leg folded
beneath its body
it's neck and body
drawn poised and taut
on a bowstring.
The marsh
has remembered
how to carve birds
from mist;
how to balance
feather against reflection;
how to hang
a morning
between heartbeats.
Beneath the mirrored
frozen sky,
where clouds drift
whenever it looks away
the currents comb the roots
minnows flash silver
a fly flits its wings
and sedges bow their stems
in brief
eye-to-side glances
unnoticed.
For a moment
everything seems
to have stopped:
the bird,
the water,
the breath,
the moment,
are paused
to say:
Touché! Olé!
Touché! Olé!
on borrowed time.
Dawn on spider silk—
A wren's wing brushes one strand,
pearls get rearranged—
web keeps its geometry,
only the dewdrops have gone.
Sea mists on a pane.
A beam of sunlight sneaks through
opening the view
The room fills with fresh insight
the glass was never quite touched.
Moonlight falls on pond.
A reed bends and flits a leaf
from the water's skin.
The stars' reflections remain
unruffled by the ripples.
A loose silver hair
caught upon a jacket sleeve—
deft fingers pause, then
borrow it for half a breath
before the mind can claim it.
A word almost said.
Hangs sharp between two old friends.
A teacup is poured.
steam skims anger flecks aside,
while a spoon stirs the tea leaves.
Mother's soft fingers.
Lift a lash from a boy's cheek—
he never looks up.
A small kindness passes by
unnoticed by either eye.
Sat by the bedside.
She loosens his wedding ring
twists it part aside.
The pale band beneath remains—
pale skin bands outlast the gold.
When last light thins out,
even the gentlest touch fails
to lift what's worn thin—
Outside, moonlight skims the roof;
bounces, flits, and flies away.
Hold my hand as we walk into Paradise Lost
Through the wintry Snow and Frost
Into a make believe world of Sun and Sand
Where the flowers blossom at the touch of a hand
The Birds and Animals talk and chatter
About what to them, does not matter
A place where our hopes and dreams can come true
And I can tell you truly how much I love you
As we stroll down the path to the magic door
That lets us through for evermore
A Rainbow of colour flits across the sky
As the trees whisper softly in the wind and sigh
While a sandstorm blows gently the Sun works its magic spell
Creating a misty scene, over a watery swell
As the sound of laughter fills the air
We look around but no ones there
The mystery deepens, as we walk on, like we belong
Hand in hand, our magical footsteps, deep and long
The sand warm beneath our feet
As the invisible water ebbs in and out, like a flapping sheet
The sound of waves can be heard in the silent place
As a gentle breeze strokes across the face
So much in love are we unable to comprehend
If and when our dream will come to an end
Hopefully never forever happy we will be
In this place of our dreams meant only for you and me
No such lifeless heat-pulsed void
Nothing inhabits.
Whose unimpeded view flits
Screechy hazed away!
And mistake not those ripples
Creeked and grassed a-gleam
For a wind's own stepped cheer-beam.
Eel and snake out-splay.
The fuzzy moth flits.
He hangs in the dark, dank night.
"Say... any candles?"
I feel the presence of my ancestors
in the warm rays of the sun
in a robin’s tweets
in whispers of a quickening breeze
in dazzling sparkles gracing a pond
I sense my ancestors lingering
keeping suggestions and ideas to themselves
one flits past me wearing a red cardinal suit
I feel comfortable knowing they care
yet
trust me
to make my own decisions
Spunky Butterfly
Flits and dances on the breeze.
Is that red I see?
admis the high hierarchy
a meeting of laden minds
corrupted abiding in their authority,
power selfless importance bind
We manage our own doom
Doomsday is our focus
Eternity is our home
Destruction future flits history
3/24/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
Dismiss you with their smug aloofness.
Hooked tails a sly pastoral crook.
Ignoring your grand commands.
They slink up, rub your leg
when it suits their mood,
with tail end flits.
clear telltales
of their
scorn.
They say it isn’t good for them
To feed them moldy bread
But it always makes her giggle
When they Bob their heads
Teeny tiny boots upon the waters edge
The sun is shining warmly
As she tosses out some bread
She talks to them like people
Though their eyes are beady and dull
A little slip and almost wet
But on hee shirt I pull
She falls not in the water, but her little foot is wet
Teeny tiny boots will dry
And dryer socks I’ll get
Once the bread is gone
To the playground we will go
She runs and laughs and screams so free
As she flits to and fro
The other kids they play with her
I watch dutifully
Sure to bring a special kit
In case she scrapes her knee
These are things fhat bring me peace
My child wild and free
A smile upon her prettt face
A face that looks like me
buds awaken bright
morning dew on soft green
a lone bird flits above
i dream again
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