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July 08, 2024

Zephyr's Whisper

By Ken Allan Dronsfield

Zephyr's Whisper

In the breath of a cascading waterfall ...
I hear the voices of child spirits reciting sonnets,
fallen leaves that silently land upon brown grass
weaving a colorful quilt in the wood and meadow.

Trout cruise the pools along babbling brooks in
search of small meals of worms, grubs or flies.
I watch them feed, as a lone red leaf floats by
gathering speed then disappears downstream.

Chickadees and Nuthatches flutter in the pines
as Blue Jays squawk at me from higher branches.
Walking the path, I feel a sting below the ear,
the seasons last mosquito has found me out here.

In the breath of a falling tide ... je marche.

Snow white sails billowing in the warm trades,
rolling seas of a turquoise blue, reflect silken clouds,
terns and gulls from tropical islands hover above.
Flying fish leap and glide as dolphins follow.

In the breath of a falling tide ... Je suis réveillé.

A thermos of hot tea sits beside me in the dunes
tall marsh grasses flow with the on-shore breeze.
I slowly sip my cup as flocks of geese fly over,
I smile, close my eyes and find myself adrift.

In the breath of a Zephyr's Whisper... Je pars.

Article © Ken Allan Dronsfield. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-10-01
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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