(no subject)
First Call of a Redwing
by Nicholas Dykes
It was only a rusty redwing
mulling among old brown reeds,
but his cautious, throaty music
was the first bright chord of spring.
And in a flash my godly soul
flew up away forever,
all vestige of its guileful face
vanishing, traceless, into space.
And life was suddenly glorious,
drenched with colours and light,
for I was the runner in my blood,
my precious mind its flight.
How I wish I could be the one reading this poem and mean it... how i wish to fly on my bike... sigh
BTW, MRI is a noisy and scary machine...
by Nicholas Dykes
It was only a rusty redwing
mulling among old brown reeds,
but his cautious, throaty music
was the first bright chord of spring.
And in a flash my godly soul
flew up away forever,
all vestige of its guileful face
vanishing, traceless, into space.
And life was suddenly glorious,
drenched with colours and light,
for I was the runner in my blood,
my precious mind its flight.
How I wish I could be the one reading this poem and mean it... how i wish to fly on my bike... sigh
BTW, MRI is a noisy and scary machine...