we as poets,
are like birds....
in the sky.
soaring against,
the backdrop of
nature's grandeur
while aloft, we espy,
beauty and sorrow
and all the stuff....
that living life makes,
and falls forgotten,
in-between the cracks,
of just.... being.
from which,
we as poets,
glean .....
words and phrases,
that cause us to,
ponder, wonder
and cogitate.
those whispers of love.
sighing, breaths and sorrows
thoughts of futures blest,
of now, i am impressed
and yester's hollow,
and yet to be put to rest.
and bring them home,
with loving care,
to nidificate....
to interweave what we
see, hear and feel... & know
into the nesting chamber
for our wordlove....
for our poem
the one...
not quite yet ready to....
take flight.