Early Spring Morning

The fog ascends
with the sound of starlings in flight,
a murmurration of wings and cloud.

Rising from the warming cove,
morning mist seeps into the budding trees,
wrapping itself through sap laden limbs
and pollen sugared boughs.

The ecstasy of birdsong on a cold spring day-
I rise on beating wings
and the sound of a thousand voices.

1 thought on “ascending

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s