A glance that sweetens the sky, Mr. Heron is merely biding his time. Whether its Fall, Winter, Spring or Summer. His patterns are already written in his heavens. For it is not only that the old will do, The old becomes new. He's just trying to decide, upon his tranquil perch, when to go. For who is waiting in his blue yonder? Will Mr. Heron's endeavors finally lead to weaving a journey of One?
A glance that sweetens the sky,
ReplyDeleteMr. Heron is merely biding his time.
Whether its Fall, Winter, Spring or Summer.
His patterns are already written in his heavens.
For it is not only that the old will do,
The old becomes new.
He's just trying to decide, upon his tranquil perch, when to go.
For who is waiting in his blue yonder?
Will Mr. Heron's endeavors finally lead to weaving a journey of One?
Accidently left out a few words and need to change one.
ReplyDelete...Summer.
A lake, river or marsh.
The patterns...