by the pond of stillness

the cackling geese align themselves along the edge of the huge putrid pond. a white line of noise parting the still green. it is covered with slime, no pelican, no herons here. the stillness of scum. long graceful necks balanced on awkward webbed feet look up to the sky, the geese sing a dirge. how long before it is their turn, nobody will sing for them. silly creatures with orange beaks and muddy feathers, protectors of the water, nestling in their dreams.

It is sad when cities let their oldest inhabitants die, used and yet uncared for.

the evening breeze on my sweat sparkled cheeks takes me across the miles to you. ah! these noisy birds, fly away, phsshooo now! i walk a little faster but still only in circles. i look over the dying pond. stillness is malignant. I have a strong urge to churn up these stagnant waters....to save it, to make it breathe again.

in the shade of trees
the birds sang and loved
we walked beneath

from the waters to the skies

prayers rise

i collected darkness of my heart

in cupped hands

prayers rise

i kiss the ground

surrendering to his will

with my prayers i rise.