Canopy
Foggy,
rainy
morning.
Cloudy
afternoon.
Fresh
pineapple.
Had
a visitor.
A
Charlatan.
Another
Pompous
Imposter.
The
world is overrun.
And,
sick to my stomach.
I
type these words.
Remembering
the
sweet sound
of
songbirds
high
in the trees.
As
I walk
between
drab
buildings.
The
joyful ballads
float
down from the Canopy
to
caress my Soul.
Sparkling
Spirits.
Ignite
my heart.
Ignite
my hope
for
one brief moment.
The
vignette of
those
unseen birds
high
above,
with
their
ethereal
echoes,
will
remain
With
me.
A
gift
From
the
Universe.
-Lynn
Miller Ruiz
June 1, 2018
I feel this, as i read it over as d over again. It's beautiful and so very sad. My sister is a poet, like those birds high up in the trees, she speaks her truth in beauty
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