I write the dreams of my elders.
I write the songs of sweepers.
I write the melody of gatekeepers
I write the mothering spirit of branches,
hueing maple sapp with bark and sugar.
I write of the distance traveled long before earth.
I write of wings sown in prayer and navigating me.
I write of the mountains dancing in my belly.
I write rythms of oceans.
Afterall Poetry is treasured earth.
Such beautiful, natural images!
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thank you kindly ❤
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This is wonderful — may I use it in my sermon on Sunday?
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yes indeed – it would be an honor blessings to you ❤
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lovely
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thank you kindly Kelley 😉
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