of morning ~



who will tell
of morning mists
when I have wandered on
beyond the tempt
of story
into another dawn

who will write
and who will speak
for those denied a voice
who will know
of ways they keep –
by destiny
or choice

what song
the dove
remembers well –
for another one she flies
by touch
a stand of cedars –
holds each star
against the sky

what history
the river lays
along a path of pines
who will bear
their stories home
when light
has tempered mine

. . .

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s