A kite was gliding In the sky; A boy stood imagining One day he would fly Under the blue sky, Over the mountains, Over the oceans.
Far into East and West Into North and South Nothing stopping him Feeling the air currents Pleasant and cool Flowing over his wings.
A bearded man Picked up brush and paint; He sketched the kite Silhouetted against the sun; He drew a cage With a bird inside Looking for release, Tears streaming down her eyes.
An urchin giggled, With a bread in hand, And hairs tousled, Two crows hovered around To swoop down And take up the prize
A pair of searching eyes Looking through lens all times Saw them. And clicked images Poignant and sharp, Depicting A mix of pleasure and pain.
Day wore on and poured into night Birds returned to their nests singing; A man crazy about picking Music from every happening Heard the birds’ communes; He composed his jingle Mingling rhythm with tunes.
The moon shone that night, Bright and beautiful, Wolves howled, lovers met, Romantic and joyful.
A man sat in the open With paper and pen Waking all night watching; Lyrics were born Extolling The moon and the shine And the joy flowing down.
Inspiration comes Percolating in tiny trickles Enlivening the spirit, Loosening the mind In magical effect Into making newer things Indulging in the beauty of creation.
Coiled up in bed, If done with pillows and blanket, Venture out In the warm sunshine And behold the dews, Tiny and still, Last through the early chill, Adorning the blades of grass, Bright and fresh, On a lazy winter morning.
Get a little far, And be lost in the ethereal mist, And behold a few Walk, wrapped in clothes, And disappear into distant paths, While others sit hunched, On a fire, As flames kiss Their dreamy eyes, Lifting their spirits high.
On the wayside, If you see marigolds shine Know it’s their time to reign It’s their way to beguile In their golden red, yellow smile. And if you see guava, oranges or grapevine, Juicy and luscious, They’re there, The toast of the season.
Still a lot more hidden A lot more to be found From its bosom But feel blessed It’s all so awesome – The gifts of Winter mornings.
They went before their turn, Taken by a wave, By its ugly churn; A parting never was from too far In a grave or a funeral pyre; The moment that was, Dark and grim, When life was eclipsed And death reigned supreme.
It was not long before They would Hear the birds sing, Like you and I, With a sip in the morning. They would Roam about the garden, Like bees, With the hum of a lovely tune.
A grandpa wanted To see a little more of light; A mom had To make her little ones bright; Scaling the mountains Was for what a son Was through the grind; Crossing the oceans Was what a daughter had in mind. Dream in their eyes And the hope of a new dawn; All gone Unseen, unsung, Only mourned in a distance.
This world, this earth, This cradle of life; It sustains; Also it kills; Unjust and just, Unsafe and safe, Ugly and beautiful It has twists and turns In its tale. Its army was let loose, They proved too tough to quell; Mask, sanitizer Could not save them From this hell. Doctors, nurses among them Heroes of the time Went down fighting this battle.
We feel their presence In the songs they had sung In the dance their feet had sprung In the flowers they had helped bloom In every little path They had trodden To make our lives sublime We remember them In the starry nights In love, In tears, Wishing them back again.