Like the Flight
Of a bird.
It’s easy if my attitude,
Buds like springtime blooms,
And I know I must conclude,
The ebb and flow resumes.
Today it may be cloudy,
Time written on my clocks,
And don’t ever doubt me,
We’ll steer clear of the rocks.
Now lighter in the morning,
And light later at night,
And whilst others are yawning,
I sit here and write.
I write about the good times,
In places I have been,
And about the lilting rhymes,
And people I have seen.
Then sometimes it’s the weather,
Or the cabin in Jerrong,
The feeling when together,
And the bird’s early song.
I know that those who know me,
Know that I really care,
And the best is to be free,
To live and love and share.
Past times now forgotten,
Or tinged with rims of red,
The hapless and begotten,
In books that I have read.
The recipe for writing,
And the placement of a word,
An experience enlightening,
Like the flight of a bird.
©
David Rudder
2023
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