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For A.C.W.
A warm winter wind
kneads these plains
with its palm,
so colonies of the soil
yield, even in winter:
greens for geese, seed for sparrows.
Some birds sip
from a world of puddles
and browse on the mud.
One waits mid-air,
and a thermal lifts her:
an invitation met by wings–
arched, admitting flight.
Tags: Colorado
reminds me of surrender.
Thanks Deb!
It most certainly is, Gayle. Surrender to soaring, but not on my own power alone. Thank you!