FLY HIGH

Fly HIgh

 

What does it feel like to fly,

Rising to meet the blue sky?

 

Soaring to a new height.

A bird’s exclusive right.

Alone and soaring high,

Nary a cloud in the sky.

 

Take me along with you, please.

What can I do to appease?

 

The wind will ruffle my feathers.

I will fly without any tethers. 

 

I will fly over the land

To the tune of a marching band.

 

 

RED IN ITS ANGER

 

 

The storm approaches the shore.

A spray of water hits my face.

The salty breeze lifts tendrils of hair.

Palm trees sway and bend.

The sand ripples

from the increasing wind.

Birds flee for safety.

Waves crash against the rocks.

The sky darkens to red in its anger,

raining tears across the land and sea.

When will it end?

Once the sky calms,

the sun will shine.

The birds will return.

The tantrum will be over.

RED SKY

 

The sky glows red

with anger.

It shrieks thunder.

It rains tears.

Lightning sizzles

across its angry face.

Wait.

Watch.

Listen.

The sky is still in command.

It shows its wrath.

Then it grows calm

and releases the blue skies.

ALONE WITH NATURE

 

 

Alone with nature,

a feeling like no other.

A sky filled with birds,

purple with the fading sun.

Sea breezes wrap around me,

cocooning me with their mist.

Life stands still for this picture,

a glimpse of heaven from above.