I would wade the calling circumstance before me , free of pagan
resistance .. To describe my color blue , the music of the lake , the calm
of the morning field ..
Raging fires of love , the yield of passion , musics hidden calling ,
echoes across frozen woodland that cry in supplication ..
Black shapes on white media foster ...I am the seagull dancing for
his next meal once more ... Yellow bell salutations , the crow that told the Jay
that called out across the wailing , waiting world , with the Noon cry of repetitive thought and due candor .. Moss atop dead Pine , familiar with it's lot in this life .. The end lying in every direction , hue of birthing green and silver blue resurrection ..
Tall white Pines tickle laughing skies , brown resignation tugging
a struggling mind to the West free , cool March afternoon ....
Sweetgum cones locked in deaths final embrace , their last gaze
unknown . Still as the day , surrounded in life's music , the love of
warm wind , the call of bush berry with each new growth of the coming
Spring .. The white reflective glow down quiet roadways , O' to forever seek such analogy for descriptive written means ....