Gentle Goldfinch
precariously poised
atop the faded flower,
delicately dances
as she
gracefully gathers
the seeds and
releases the chaff –
on hurricane winds that stir.
Trees dance with the wind,
releasing leaves
that when fallen,
race across the yards
and down the streets
sounding like dancers
tapping across a stage,
while squirrels scurry to safety –
as hurricane winds begin to stir.
The cry of a
lone goose,
lost in flight,
seemingly answered
by a solo crow
as a flock of small birds
teeters against the wind,
in the opposite direction –
of hurricane winds that stir.
A solitary eagle
lifted high above
glides gallantly,
as if, just for fun
on swirling currents
that carried him afar,
and to his nest
was returned –
by hurricane winds that stir.
Although
the gulf is a
thousand miles away,
wind and rain
invade to
transform summer
into fall
on the leftover –
hurricane winds that stir.
The song of the wind
is sung through the pines
as it roars across the land
and through forests at
varying speeds creating
moments of chaos and calm,
while leaves being blown
sound like applauding hands –
upon hurricane winds that stir.
All of this,
as well as we,
are fruit of our
creative God who forever
illuminates the darkness,
giving purpose
to our journey from
the garden to the city –
even through hurricane winds that stir.
Coming full circle as I end
this collection of words,
the Goldfinch returns
with her mate
to perch upon plants
and sing songs of praise,
collecting seeds and
releasing chaff –
on hurricane winds that stir.
~ Rhonda Logan Bailey, poet and artist
