In Fields of August

 

I see a hummingbird

hovering in a beam of sunlight

eternity in a moment.

 

I hear the singing wind

playing tree and dry grass instruments

same singings my ancestors heard.

 

I feel the earth and sky

beating heart and whispering spirit

groanings of earth, calls of heaven.

 

I know at life-road’s end

leaving flesh, failures and fruitions

is required and I know that love

is the only luggage the journey allows.

Author: Darlene Franklin-Campbell

Poet, novelist, artist

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