Wind is wilder rush of awakening,
when mountain peeks
to view such valley
in green song sighing blue horizon.
This blush of beast bares eastern wave in season,
wandering spirit,
dressing fur to feather
in healing home, through ancient silence,
those damaged lungs of lower elevation.
I am born to write in river, Nature’s song
cascading scented grooves of grandeur,
moving down in rising earth stars,
toward the lake of deeper understanding.
It is lonely to be aware of living,
where granite carves such rougher skin,
traversing time in eyes
finding me here
inside her deeper crevasse,
waiting for the hidden secret, writing self
in etching crack to call my hollow
to name of everlasting journey,
where once I stepped away from dreary,
seeking what was always with me.
A contest entry
- picture prompt by Liquid memories.
575 points, ended November 8, 2007, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"I am born to write in river, Nature’s song
cascading scented grooves of grandeur,
moving down in rising earth stars,
toward the lake of deeper understanding.
It is lonely to be aware of living"
Yes, you are...& yes, it gets lonely sometimes. But solitude is a necessary part of contemplation. I envy your landscape, my Friend. I have so much noise & concrete to try to tune out before I can pick up my pen. Beautifully done, dear Scribe. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie. 
Wanda
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thank you for entering this. success to you.
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