if we could talk to birds
what would they say
would it be the arrival of spring
each twittering chatter
a whistle or two
heading into summer
such commotion
and synchronicity
as we fall into autumn
are they still with us
the weather becoming colder
in winter time
Robin in the garden
on top of the tree
looking down at me
singing his song
that little redbreast
all day long
When all is done, nothing left.
What once was new, is old again.
To stand upon the shore,
the seas subconscious call.
Birds fly past, rekindle thoughts.
Rejoice! for the wind has given breath,
so we may feel the light
to ignite the pinnacles of heaven.
Echoes of Life 