Winds Sing

In the dawn of morning,

the winds sing-

My last night surrenders.

Anxious birds stir and twist,

able feet clutching to small twigs-

My sunlight returns.


I am here … again-

Precious water finds way to copper and tin,

as ancient heat find way and enters in-

Roasted seeds, having been grown and husked,

meet spinning blades.

All of which are ground round,

and then-

brewing abounds-

My mind stirs-

So many things to do-

Click- Click- Click-


I am here.

Birds float and fly,

branches free to flow and grow,

as the winds sing-

My sun is full.


Featured Image Photo Credit

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