Of this dying tree
A hummingbird senses
Touching what's left of me
Essence of nectar within reach
Yet my presence concerns
What must beseech
An inner calling
Hidden in silence
The gentle whispering
That floats across the meadows
Then upon flower petals
Resting upon these wounded branches
That have fallen to the ground
Light halfheartedness that flutters
Yet no tear is shed
Or greater happiness found
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
