The Bookish Kind: Night Bird

I've been pulling several all nighters this summer, not really by choice. I wrote this little poem one night in the wee hours to vent my frustration. And yes, it was an all nighter last night.

Tired - Ramon Casas

She is a night bird,

Awake all eventide,

Until the morning

Lark song,

Is heard at dawn.

Joy

I will never tire of the wind,
be it a cold winter blast
that takes me off guard
with it's bitterness,
or an exhilarating spring or
fall tempest that sweeps me away.
I get caught up in it every time,
...it's as if the wind is calling
my name to come out and play.
The trees become my cohorts,
...those gentle giants that sway
back and forth with delight,
as they gracefully bend to and
fro - they get caught up every time,
too, and are surely clapping their
hands in mirth.
In these moments, I am a
beautiful bird who was made for nothing more than ascending
to the heights where the currents await me. Joy.

For the beauty of the earth