"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Poem: The Long Wander

The road stretches ahead of me,
curving as it crests the hill,
disappearing into moonlight.
 I am certain of this step only,
this shared breath of air,
this crunch of soil and stone.
These dusty shoes know my feet,
    and both hands shine with silver.
 A remembered tune awakens
 with all its ribbons flying;
coming to me whole:
 every word and every voice that sang.
I hum along, stepping in time,
 as small brown birds circle above,
their song like threads of light,
  their cry, clear as a flute,
 flying open mouthed into the wind.

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