The wind sniffs at me,
Gathering my scent to itself
Like a child collecting
Grass strewn eggs on Easter
I watch the clouds,
Moving on tides of air,
As they wash, slowly,
Against mountain shores,
And I lift my eyes to the sky,
Making of them an offering,
As I pray for the wind
To come and collect me too.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Earthbound
Labels: Poem
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