Do I dare?

Capture within a photograph God’s masterpiece.

The trickling sound of water whistles through the air. The green chested duckling runs across

the blanket of fresh water. The air, its breeze cold and damp, still as sound

Touches our skin without reaching forth. The sun makes its departure,

ducklings sing as it leaves, and those trees sit still watching the show

The birds gaze below, staring at every insect with such precision

Suddenly! The clouds are orange,

gray looms the sky, I await for the stars

to drop their lights upon the mountains.

The grass is dry during the winter, but not far beyond

green patches can bee seen that foreshadow a bright spring.

 

Do they beckon us? The birds?

With their soft songs awaken the night!

“Sing again,” she says, sitting aside it all

Marveling, never moving, only the gentle brush of the pen upon a leaf so pale.

And now it is purple, what she sees, sound is broken by far away voices.

The water splashes and leaves brush,

the sound of dry ones being blown aside.

With its feathers the duckling crashes its wings against the rippling lake.

It is a fiery orange now, against the charcoal mountains

Who know where it lies?

Or perhaps it is trapped within my heart, she thinks to herself.

The bird is agitated, anxious, as I watch it in silence.

 

Now I wait

Entranced

For the moon to shine its white lights, beautiful stillness, all created by One.

As night captures the scene, we fly away like the birds

Our souls lift up, and ascend home.

Farewell ducks!