Here and Now
Three hawks winging and wheelingIn the dusky sky, not hunting now
But skimming the currents of air
Like stones skipped across a pond,
Ripples opening but never touching,
Writing the lines of their lives
On scrolls of parchment clouds,
Not leaving or needing any trail
To know how they've come or why;
Only this moment, only here and now.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2011-03-04 at 16:23
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