Sunday, February 26, 2006

poem

Transfiguration
Sleeping lightly on a forget-me-not blanket
soft sun bathing her plain face.
Limbs stretched out towards nothing at all
as a halo of peace surrounds her.

She chooses not to tumble with the tumult
and to take time to renew her soul.
The summer breeze whips strands of her hair
over her weary face.

Staring at her supine figure
the meadowlark calls to her
Come back to us now
And share what you have learned.