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    Birds, Poem by Peter Ruellan soundscapes

    peter ruerue

    by peter ruerue

    After playing in the morning waters
    They will escort us to the sunshine
    And to her red blushing image
    The birds feel the movement
    Of the wind and it's phase
    An unseen hand lifts them
    Like a palm branch, sparkling
    Charcoal black, shouldering muscle and sinew
    Scratching towards some objective
    Their feathers arching forward
    Like a battalion off to war
    Slippery skin melts like honey
    Shines like licorice in the bright sunlight
    In folds of blue do the skies unfold
    Towards marshes of green
    And piney forests
    They dig for pleasure at their wing tips
    Breaking the crystal cover of the lake
    Cut the silk of time like a samurai
    Rebellious in their nature;
    Their flight emerges over rivers and deltas
    Where the orient dies and tall steppes flatten
    Sometimes looking for a raft to land on