Insight

I plucked a gray-haired thistle head And gave it to the breeze And that which I had thought was dead
Took wing with agile ease;

So do the thoughts of some grown old
We once considered dead
Leap up as on a spirit wind
To soar above our head.

Reverie

Placidly, so placidly

The river glides along

Joyously, melodiously

The redwing sings his song,

And in the half light's glimmer

My spirit lifts its wings.

More sweetly than that hymner

The bird within me sings.

Gene Pinkney, 1958

 

 

Copyright 2006 Gene Pinkney
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