As the Wind Moves Over the Hawk’s Shoulder

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A solitary golden feather is lifted as the wind moves over the hawk’s shoulder.

Chipmunks are breathless as the mountains bask in the sunlight.

Yet the hawk spins his head towards a murmuring sound close by. A lone figure, praying in the shadows of the mountain.

Peace is seldom easy, so the hawk kept silent, honoring his descendants.

Weren’t humans descended from birds of prey?

   

Note: Influenced by Native American creation stories.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In the Softness of the Autumn Sun

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In the softness of the autumn sun, a quiet returns

to our hearts

an in between, a season

of twilight, of dreaming

where we remember gathering, holding onto,

yet a time of resting

to cease from striving,

even blankets wrapping us

in a feeling of safety, letting go

trusting the arms,

trusting the smile

of our lover

and the smell of apples

bringing wholeness

in the twilight.

We drift off again.

Autumn.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies