On The Wind

2 Comments

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  • Nature

    On The Wind
    He greeted me on a spring wind
    Circling me in the late blue sky
    Cream and black wings
    Lit by the setting sun
    He paused and bowed to me
    During his southern flight
    After the third bow, he silently said good-night
    And sailed south in the fading light.
    Drifting home, his dark red back to me
    Leaving behind only the setting sun
    Remembering his wings
    In the circling sky
    His beautiful life caught in wind.



    July 15, 2009

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    RHPeat commented on On The Wind

    09-13-2009

    TBW/ I like bird poems a lot. I like birds a lot. I like to watch birds fly. I like to watch birds circle. I am just a bird lover who feeds the birds all the time. One problem with the poem: The third? what? cloud, gust of wind, month, day, pond, field of rice, landing and take off. Third what? a poet friend/ rhpeat
    Reply to Comment

    TBWyvern

    09/13/2009

    Yes, you're right. Have added "bow" to that line to clarify. Thank you and I hope it made you smile.

    Wesa commented on On The Wind

    09-08-2009

    As always, beautiful imagery. Kind of a lonely tone to it, but at the same time calm and contented.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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