Crossing Over
-
*by Fatima Ray*
At eighteen waiting for the light to turn green at the intersection in the
big city thirty miles from home. Observing all the people waiti...
1 year ago
Weak, tired arms
stretching outward
Cupping the morning dew
on the yard.
Stillness of air
soft as my breath,
Sunlight through the mist
have me bathed.
I could not listen
in a world so uncalm
And could not hear
What my heart truly want.
A countryside
in early morn
Soft and quiet
like a newborn soul.
Labels: Pondering, Quietude, Reckoning, Reflection, Serenity
Post a Comment