when the clouds move in
when they set up camp below the
trees and mingle with the fallen leaves
i find solace in notes
high and low
strung together like birds on wire
and truth finds me in my waking life:
there is no divine favoritism
we are each of us like the tree
which loses its leaves when
the sun moves away
yet cognizant still that
the sun will return
and life will continue its
cycle of ebb and flow
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Kyri lives in Richland, WA and Crystal lives in Spokane, WA. This is one of the ways they are keeping in touch.
2 comments:
i like. the melancholy and hope, intermingled. like it's okay to feel down, but you're not wallowing in it.
thanks! yeah, there is definitely a metaphor in there that i was unaware of when i wrote it.
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