444. Embrace

I climb onto the highest branch,

As the winds caress the leaves.

All about the forest,

The fairies sit on eaves,…

Humming, as they rest.

The sky is filled up to the brim,

With loose clouds swimming about,

That with delighted care,

Will soften themselves out,

To drift into the air.

I sit on the branch as the wind,

Soothes and permeates beneath,

The hard shell carried ’bout,

As a protective sheath,

From other forms about.

They do not understand me wind.

They don’t discern you either.

Why you love to wander:

To feel, and to occur,…

Within life…and yonder.

To the very ends of the world,

And to the depths of the soul.

To feel more than mere words,

Could e’er hope to extol,

In the aria’s of birds.

I am not afraid of the wind,

Which penetrates through the skin.

Yet, I fear humankind,

For what they do to skin,

To rape the soul and mind.

I climb onto the highest branch,

As the winds pass through with ease.

Close my eyes and breathe-in,

That gentle summer breeze,

Which embraces within…

For a moment……………………and forever.

K. Aldaya, 6/16/18

Picture: https://wallpaperstock.net/woman-red-hair-dress-rose-tree-wallpapers_w41750.html

347. Toward Home

The fire is set…let it rain.

Sprinklers on the ceiling spit,

Out the waters of the sky,

Which stands above the heads that sit,

Under this big white roof and cry.

Some are looking at the floor,

Thinking of their yesteryears,

And how time passed by so fast.

In the joys of their many years,

Their hope and love had grown so vast.

Some are looking at the walls,

Pondering the hour and day.

Will someone come visit them,

And help them bide the hours away?

Will any out there think of them?

Some are looking at the ceiling,

Dreaming of drifting clouds of white,

In warm, pleasant days of summer.

The beep of a bike horn stirs their sight,

As they ride ‘neath azure skies of summer…

Toward home.

K. Aldaya, 4/12/16

271. On a Path Through The Woods

There is a path through the woods,

Which winds and twists a course,

Through its’ bold coniferous steeples,

Rising from their source:

The earth and its’ wood-spirits,

They call out from the deep.

Why is it those voices seep through me,

And stir my soul to weep?

What words have I to write-out,

Of how lovely and rich?

The forests are, to those who can hear,

In the ‘unheard’ pitch.

Of light fairy fantasies.

Flowing brooks and rivers.

Of high, ancient trunks as wise as Gods;

And time, which delivers….

A carefree hum on the breeze.

Hum: to the flow of life…

And death, where spirits dwell lost in dance;

Where I, and my life,

May drift into their trance…

On a path through the woods.

K. Aldaya, 5/27/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; Originally from Crazy-Frankenstein.com; http://www.jogjis.com/stock/summer-forest-wallpapers.jpg