Wednesday, February 4, 2015

When the Hawk Flies Away

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.
Silver limbs
Glint gold in the sun

Aspens dancing, spiraling upward
Among the still permanence
Of stolid rough-barked cottonwoods

Together, an al fresco manse
Room upon room, story upon story
With a ceiling of palest blue

She travels far and wide
Both on these winds and those no one can see
But still she returns to the cottonwood house

When working, she allows sight but no more
No capturing of images
So there will be no risk of capturing of souls

Her appearance delivers the message
All is well; journey done
But there are other souls and other journeys still

Now, empty cottonwood rooms
Lit by spiraling silver aspens
Beneath a sheltering blue sky

Are all the home that remains
When the hawk flies away





All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.



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