you stride with your walking stick
left to right, left to right, along corners
up the stairs & alleys
along subway doors
i can't imagine what you may not see-
not this winter season full of greys
but the magic of spring
you
young gazelle,
raising your face to raindrops
i know you believe in angels
though
you see, i see not one, not two but many
hands, including myself
reining you from falling onto the tracks
guiding you along
wishing you nothing but good
tidings
along your journey
white hawk on tree
silent sentinel on the watch-
my morning, a gift-
Posted for dVerse OpenLinkNight. Happy Thanksgiving to our US friends! Thanks for joining in when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.