The Early Morning Light

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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

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He Was Canyons of Rivers Raging

apache-dancer-harley-upton-jr-diego-james-robles-from-indiancountrytodaymedianetworkIn the dance for his people, feet pounding twirling, left shoulder down, feathers jerking, he was the heartbeat of the earth,

head tilted to the left then the right, leaning in, spinning with blurred vision

he became red rocks, he became canyons of rivers raging, with ancient memories,

with power in his feathers, he remembered when they protected

the women and children, from dog faced soldiers hiding spears,

until the sun broke through the great trouble.

He was more than the dance,

he had blended

with the spirit of his people.

     

Poetry © Copyright 2019, ancient skies, image  of Apache dancer from indiancountrytodaymedianetwork

The Stillness of Trees

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A closer walk within the wind, discovering the pre-dawn of winter

where prayers guide us through

the stillness of trees

gifting our spirits

with a sense of quiet,

a stronger muscle,

and lungs unafraid to breathe

through all our questions.

It is winter

and our boldness will see us through.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies