Aubade
Star-birds murmur
with ancient light-breath, and if
they drop a seed–or two—
a rustle in the quiet night
between cycles of moon-song,
it is the thing you almost-saw—but
the flowers are there at bird-dawn
blooming,
magical, something like love.
There are terrible things happening in the world, but I went walking on a beautiful spring morning, and the Oracle saw that, too.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
So similar, even to the compound words. The magic is still there even as our leaders do their best to disappear it. (K)
Yes–you’re right about the words and the leaders.
Oh so lovely Merril 😊
Thank you so much, Ingrid!
I really like your bird-dawn
Thank you very much, Derrick.
Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
Thank you, Michael!
Thank you as well, Merril! xx Michael
Its lovely. xx Michael
Thank you so much, Michael! 💙
:-)) xx
Thank you for faithfully composing words about the constancy of nature: bright spots in dark times. The title Aubade fits perfectly. 😀
Thank you very much, Marian.
The title came from a recent prompt. 😀
“Magical, something like love.” Just as good to end my day as it would be to begin it.
What a lovely comment! Thank you, Liz.
You’re welcome, Merril!
Beautiful 💖🥀
Thank you so much! ❤️
You’re very welcome
This could be any morning here too. The natural world rustles, drops a seed where it’s needed, and does what it has to do, regardless.
I wrote my poem yesterday but didn’t get around to posting it. You’ll find yourself in the first stanza. Who says the Oracle isn’t always listening?
Thank you. The Oracle is definitely always listening!😊
I find it reassuring.
Yes, I do, too.
Now, more than ever it is important to find the beauty. Which you do so very well.
Thank you so much, Dale. I try. 💙
You succeed!
😊