Tickles of the straw fingers,
it will be alright they say.
Wave of the centre wind,
the saint’s at rest on the air’s kisses.
Join us they exclaim.
The scarlet macaw on her acclaimed throne,
art of ranking colours,
colours of a warrior’s triumph.
Rejoice in her name.
Rejoice!
Rejoice!
Bush deer content with the sound of emptiness,
the wolfs an ancient myth.
Bumbles bees retreating from the flowers,
along the yellow brick road.
The sky will never shed a tear
Today.
Tomorrow.
Next week.
Next month.
Next year.
In life.
Gabriel meadow. You are filled with my prospective destiny.
God bless you.
Justine Louisy
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