Wandering


Wandering


Moon looking through my window,

Geranium blooms smile back at her.

Wind whistling through fallen leaves,

Clouds racing through the sky.


Moon so very far away,

Yet she feels just like a friend.

Nights shaped by her circling glow,

Days lit by her cousin the sun.


As they wander across the skies,

So we wander here on earth,

Our footsteps moving through the grass,

Their bright trails moving above our heads.


All together, we make a world,

Sun the father and moon the mother,

Air the breath, soil the ground.

Light and rain make us complete.


A treasure-house of living forms,

Wandering far through soil and air,

Sacred family,  small and large.

We all belong. This is our home.


NF 12/5/22

Comments

  1. AnonymousDecember 5, 2022 at 4:43 PM

    This is NOT a "lame" poem! As the moon looks "through your window," and "geranium blooms smile back at her," I already feel a connection between the earth and moon. The last few lines brings it/us all together: "We all belong. This is our home." -- Karyn Hempel (I am signing my name because, when I try to use my account here, it just doesn't work any more!)

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