Sibilant with the whispering
of millions of leaves in the wind
yet to taste the fire and singe.
Let me feel the dappling
of sun filtered, lightly streamed
through a high strung canopy
birds aloft in melody
birds aloft in memory
spiralling in on ash filled breeze
search the earth for sun grown trees.
It means a lot that you trouble
To read all my ramblings on topics narrow and broad
And are kind enough not to burst my bubble!
I nominate Aechoes from the heartland for the next award.