Windy
A Song For The Birds And People That Fly
The sound of the leaves written primarily by trees. As such was the beauty heard plainly with ease. Up mountains, round rivers. A song for the birds. For the people that live there. Across valleys was heard. Now what be the mention of this, you may wonder, Alone to unravel the blur from down under. A song can be sung from the language of trees. I heard in the sky and then carried to thee. © Susy Kamber All rights reserved
Other
Intentions of My Dream
The whole world becoming like planted flowers. Filled vases on a tabletop. Blown babies comprised of newly born roses. From a field of lacy yellowed wheat. Tumbles of red and green. Flowers touching flowers. Intentions of my dream. There’s an ocean on the table. A greenhouse there to stay. The place to savor flavors. Amongst the happy sounds of day. Oh, I favor conversation. Between the firm and soft delights. Of flowers wafting next to me. Your eyes as deep as night. Between the setting and the songs. Sweet descriptions in the air. Pronouncing love as added seasonings. You gave while I was there. Copyright S. Kamber
Other
Windy
The wind might prefer everything to be seen with its lingering stance. Air bombarded with what it carries from place to place. I see these feelings as rose petals given in succulent glances from your eyes to mine. From you the gliding water droplets. To fill rain puddles as we stare through car windows. Blown water roads on the window’s surface. The wind is a whip you say in need of soothing. The wind is a guide I say to show us how to transform. All its work a movement from one place to another. Copyright S. Kamber
Photograph
