Poetry2ponder's Blog

Drops of dew sit on the wing;

Sunlight from the horizon beginning to sing;

Waiting for the right moment to fly;

Learning to see through our blind eye;

Looking out the window I see fields of grass.

Looking out the window, I see animal paths.

Floating in the clouds above the sea,

I wonder what will become of me.

Where will I land and will I be safe?

In the sand, the water, some other place?

Drifting on a note of the violin,

Started out calm, but beginning to spin.

There are no maps for where I am going,

The sky is a blur when it is snowing.

But winter ice melts as the strong sun returns;

Cool weather calms as hot summers burn.

Every thing in its time and place,

Filling the void in empty space.