The Bookish Kind: To It's Place

Saturday, March 30, 2024

To It's Place

I cry for the eagles

I cry for the bears

The good things of the world

Are becoming more rare

I love beauty

I love praiseworthy things

Let me seek them still

And help them find their wings

I stand in the Light

I stand with love

May peace return

To it's place

The sign of the Dove

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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