Wings of the Wind
I see a poem in the sea,
And in the starry night.
The river warbles line and verse
In morning’s rosy light.
A leaf that falls whispers to me
To write its epitaph,
And joy cries out to be expressed
To hear a grandchild’s laugh.
Snowflakes melting in my hand,
The sun’s warmth on my head,
Cannot be shared on canvas,
I paint with words instead.
With pen in hand I venture forth
To capture all I see,
In free verse, rhyme and metaphor
That tumble forth to “be”.
How do you find the words some ask?
Life has a song it sings,
If you listen, the wind will bear the tales
Upon its outstretched wings.