I Sing What Is Before Me
The way forward requires me to step sideways.
Step backwards,
turn around and lay down.
The night sky is illuminated through clouds.
Source unseen.
I scraped through it all to what was underneath,
removing layers.
Birds soared overhead.
The wind opened the door.
I stepped into the light,
marveled at how green the grass grew near the puddle
in the field.
These days of solitude contemplate tall pine trees who stand next to each other.
Little flowers hug the ground.
A few raindrops fall.
Still I bring pen to paper.
Iād forgotten.
I sing songs,
spontaneous songs.
I sing what is before me.