from Kotomi's Blog for May

through an intern's eyes

Thin feathers
hollow bone.
Warriors fly at dusk alone.
Eyes closed, exposed
to the unknown.
Brothers and sisters flown
far from home.
But home is every tree they see
no tree is lost, they're free.
The journey is the flight.
Like a kite, wind, water like breathing waves
coasting to the next branch, the next helping hand.
Home.

Purple, pink and golden hues
birds singing
morning blues.
The hill's shadow has
branches and leaves.
It's voice is the swaying whisper
of dancing trees.
Being awake before the sun
is like a warm hug,
The stillness seeps up through my roots
filling me with peace
with ease.
I never thought I was a morning person,
turns out I just wasn't awake.
I had to wake up, to get up
before the sun.