After the golden birds
And the birds of burnished bronze,
Sky a star-sapphire dome over
Hollyhocks of already fading July jasper.
Scent of rain on life-giving wind
Dark mountain clouds rise at evening
After tyrannical heat and days
Of the sun’s brutal power
Birds fallen from the nest
We wait for the voice
Speaking from the thunder.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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