nearing the prismatic promise of dawn

lapping waves erase, all my barefoot prints

I try to accumulate myself to a fallen log

as a single gust of wind breaks from a summit

and ghostly swoops downwardly unseen

in its precipitously decent over quiet fauna

becoming permeated with fresh jasmine scent

stirring dust in its wake from sleepy leaves

while it keenly glides through a meadow way

holding enough presence to whirl around me

as I sit alone resembling fog on a waters edge

pretending briefly behind my closed eyes

it was your long missed embrace…once again

Poet of the Light © 2019


13 thoughts on “Musingly

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