Notes On A Bench

A day like any other,
Miracles sing in the gifts of presence.
Billowing grass stroked by wind’s fingers.
Clouds scuttling across sky’s flighty canvas.
Birdsong springing in a melodious flow.
A day in which to observe
That to feel is better than to know.
The heart is a sponge
Soaked in summer’s glow,
Hungry for love.

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Filed under Love, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts

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