The Spreading of Wings Extended

The spreading of wings extended, the spreading of leaves

through tree limbs stretching,

I walk and breathe and move,

yet I am spirit too,

in the knowing.

Moving even closer

to a sense of quiet in my spirit,

I lift my heart

in silent prayer.

Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies

The Silence of Trees

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Faded eagle dreams and faded jeans, combing grey hair, boots laced and a light weight camera,

the trails call, moving my spirit beyond crows, rejecting dark wings…I become the silence of trees, and wildflowers holding bees,

where light flickers through the canopy, I seek to know, as anyone could know, the Lord God,

like I did as a young man….

in a place that peace

calls home….

      

Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies

I Was Even Able to Whisper

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The darkness and coolness of the deep forest called to me today,

with streams and a river unending, my spirit went quiet,

listening to the bees and one stubborn woodpecker.

A tree stump became my chair as I was surrounded by the comfort of leaves….

I was even able to whisper,

a simple prayer.

      

Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies

The Sacred Feather

100_1051It wasn’t until he was near the top of the ridge that he distinctly heard a set of wings, it was unmistakable…

so he looked up into the brightness of the sun. He saw nothing…but felt the presence of wings.

Was it an eagle’s spirit, or an angel? He couldn’t tell. And then one single white feather, tinged with grey came floating down,

landing on his shoulder, and for some reason he felt….well protected. Then he remembered,

that feathers could be held as sacred…..he carried that feather in his hand to the top of the mountain,

then he closed his eyes, whispering a prayer. He didn’t know it then, but a very large shadow of wings covered him……

so completely.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Gateway

20160709_140207When he was young he didn’t know very much, yet he could sense the forest holding his prayers,

and that all streams led to the ocean, with the depth of his spirit flowing,

and he loved how the leaves sang in a gentle rain, with birdsong never ceasing.

He was thrilled with the idea, that he was connected…..to a gateway, of a world unseen.

    

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

How it All Began

20190427_101241He was just 17 when he first started searching for his spirit, deep in the cool darkness of the woods.

With light streaming occasionally, he always found the shadows of wings in the stillness,

not quite a ghost. And water falling through rocks brought calm, balm for his soul,

until a crow bursted with noise, offended by his presence. He could sit for hours on the large rock,

by the rope swing, especially in winter listening to the silence of the snowfall….

that’s really how it all began. Soon he would study the tribes, including the Lakota and Cheyenne.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies