A Morning Poem. Building Wings

Every morning 

the world wakes up

all around me

and I watch. 

I sip my coffee

warm in my hands

and listen as the birds sing

their morning songs.

I too have a morning song,

a wild woman 

somewhere deep within me

that sings at the dawn of a new day.

She sings of 

new adventures

new discoveries

and building wings.

Broken Compasses

Rocks and Light breed poetry in my bones.
Like a lovers gaze,
They hold secret messages

silent. whispers.

Chapters full of adventures, long roads traveled and yet to travel.
Water and blood like a horror
with deaths and rebirths

and. broken. compasses.

They do not sit alone.
These Rocks.
This light.

Huddled together and close to other elements
they embrace with
light kissing treetops

a. sacred. tribe.

I stare.  I soak it all up.
I ask
many questions.

and. they. answer



(Enjoying other poets, I'm linking up here today).

Restless Artist

Words.  Grip me.  Scream behind bars for freedom.

Even if only through rotary listing.  One by one.

Light bathing.  Trees swaying.  A restless artist.

This.  

Eyes opened to the soul.  Soul of a poet.

~Linking Up Here with Mama Zen~