Zephyr's Croon

As I stroll
Breezes blow
Whispering echoes
From long ago

A simpler life
Or so we're told
Eat, sleep, harvest
Times of old

Overload's toll
In this modern age
So much to do
Progress's gauge

Fulfillment's gap
Wider grows
With each new toy
To ease our woes

Breath doth sigh
One cannot miss
What has not been
Nor yet exists

Lucky the warbler
From twigs and grass
She twines her nest
As in ages past

Slow our pace
Heed her voice
Purl, weave, rest
A simpler choice


march 16, 2008
judithpiper

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I enjoy sitting upon a mountain ridge and listening. Often I hear the wind as it approaches. And then I feel it kiss my cheeks. My thoughts wonder, bask, and dive into Zephyr's touch and voice.

There are many voices in the wind. Some speak of past. Others of future. All of the gift, the present. May we heed their lessons more and more.

This poem was written after a day hiking around The Saddle.
***

Mile Post 168

***
The Saddle
Evening view

To the east dips the valley
To the west rises Buffalo
Astride the mountain's back
High upon The Saddle

Blustery gusts
Wind swept
Open face
Arms upstretched
Hands wide
Breezes swaddle
Magical still

Bid farewell to day star
Greet hello to orb's reflection
To the west dips Sun
To the east rises Moon

Another day
The Saddle

judithpiper
july 5, 2009

***

A place I frequent along the Blue Ridge Parkway, mile post 168. Buffalo is the name of a mountain.

Glimpse from the Saddle Overlook
Buffalo Mountain