Poetry Friday

by

I stood there taking in the sheen on the crow’s beaks,
the heaving of the horse,
the sire and fall of my father’s voice,
the breeze driving clouds and tousling my hair,
and the aroma of freshly turned soil as of something right our of the oven.
These sensations went deep into me,
along with the shapes and textures of skin, shell,
scales, feathers, leaves, bark and fur.
They were the first alphabet I learned, before letters of words.
I still don’t have words to say what attracted me to the life of woods and fields,
except to call it the holy shimmer at the heart of things.

Scott Russell Sanders

Category : Inspiration
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