It is almost the end
of summer’s
high cathedral days
this ground is airy
storing years
in its loam
a downed branch
genuflects
as I step on its edge
robed in velvety moss
that dampens
the sound, still
small birds dart
seeking safety
in the open, shelter
without closing,
a very present refuge—
oh how these words
have stuck,
and no bird sings
its songs by rote
but no song is either
entirely our own
and there’s still
a comfort hidden
somewhere
in these sounds
among the disquiet
of long-learned
words, a fluency–
still they startle
me, and I too
take to flight.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
I love the last 2 verses like craze,
I’m like ”wow! Thats beautiful” !
Nice to meet you on blogosphere… 🙂
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thanks!
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“summer’s high cathedral days” Beautiful Your use of metaphor moves so smoothly. And I, too, love birds so I really appreciate the lovely details and development. Your last lines are lovely, reflective. I love this poem. Thanks.
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Thank you as always for your lovely comments!
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