In the early morning light, leaves speak of peace
and a gentle rain
while a bumble bee hovers
watching me, as if I was intruding.
A chipmunk darts, when a pair of wings opens
and hops from one tree limb to another, hopeful.
“Will you release your prayer?” the crow seems to say,
I realize in the early morning light, of the deep forest…..
it is time.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies