Micropoetry 5-11-2020

for the leaves to blow
and the merry bird
to sing his tune

visiting the blue
mirrored water
as it shows another world
and I am one
who visits from the outside

in the whiteness
of the rising light
where all the shapes
dissolve into
the morning mist

along a path
where feet will never tire
until there is some light
and lightness to the world

between the worlds
I waver in the wind
without a place to go

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