In the Winter twilight, God draws a picture
of a thrush. Some may think a cloud
but I tell you — it’s a bird
with charcoal wings and salmon breast, there
in his stillness to invoke
a song of soft wind.
.across the field and mountains.
A promise, a purpose
I have yet to grasp
as the moon shows her maiden face
through fir trees that shade
a shallow stream — where one may ask
for fresh water or something deeper
than its desert well.
Note — This was written from an actual sighting of a cloud that resembled that type of bird. At dusk a cloud became this beautiful avian shape with a charcoal and salmon colored plumage. I did not have time to snap a picture of it so I substituted the one in the above post. I live in the high desert of Southern Cal. so it’s important to note, we do have pine/fir trees, mountains in the distant and yes rivers and natural streams here and there.