The Present of Presence

Staring out the window with quiet all around
A gush of wind comes in full-face with cool breezes abound
Making the little white flower growing away, turn around
As if imploring me to accept this gift before it fell to the ground
I thank you O dear Wind for this present of presence
And of course accept the gift of Nature's essence!
With the little white flower now adorning my mane
And the Wind blowing through it now and again
I swing along to the tunes of imaginary rain
And rejoice in the wonders that gleam in the solitude of pain

No comments:

Post a Comment