Not a cadralor from the Oracle today. A short, sweet and to the point message.
Listening for the echoes
To stop this frantic race and soar
with the unthinking grace of a hawk,
to run where the stream runs, unquestioning of the end,
to board the ship, knowing there may be no return voyage,
is a wish that pulses in the too-human blood,
that surged with our first infant cry,
that falls in wind-whispers from every broad-leafed tree,
tongued in imperatives by the turning-season storms.
I would paint my path in bright colours and follow it,
had I the talent, but being no artist, I send my heart
in the wake of kingfisher and the white scut of deer,
and with my silence, listen for its distant echoes.
Not a cadralor from the Oracle today. A short, sweet and to the point message. Listening for the echoes To stop this frantic race and soarwith the unthinking grace of a hawk,to run where the stream runs, unquestioning of the end,to board the ship, knowing there may be no return voyage, is a wish that … Continue reading Listening for the echoesRead MoreJane Dougherty Writes
