Standing on a
hilly place writing stories in the air
Flying lines in purple
pencils loosed through all the trees
Weaving love in lingering
leaves kept as sunlight enters:
Telling things of
lifted-life found all around about me!
Takings of the
swiftlight wading through the dew grass
Filling brooks of
brimming joy up amongst the airy trees
Inscribing peace
in whispered song freed as lightening enters
Telling things of
ardour inner met, matched of its outer!
Running on a hilly place writing stories in the air
Weaving life in latticed light found in silver folds
Redemptions of my
stinging things, my stories all reborn
The former
things my bridges crossings to the new!
*
Honeysuckle
drippings from wild ginger flowers
Sticky with
nectar in their seepings of sweetness
All as plentiful
in stories as the peace lily plant
These newly
formed emergings from my purple horizons
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