Blue

Things that fly . . . at the mere kiss of the breezes . . .

the sun shines, warm and close . . . .

The birds are buzzing,

and the bees singing,

little things marching

on their parade grounds

find their place . . .

on this heaven we sometimes

call earth . . .

We force our way past gravity

reaching toward the unknown . . .. 

dreaming of the impossible,

following our

star

The dragon folds 

her treasure

into the palms of the lonely,

and dropping her demons to the floor she

lifts her wings

to shine against the

blazing sun

When I find myself lost

in the shadows

I wait, but a moment,

for the sun to follow

her road

above the horizon . . .

where she kisses

my cheeks 

and breathes

her warm life giving

spirit

under my

sun dappled

wings . .

. . . and I am

the meadow,

I am the dream of tomorrow,

and the dance of the

eagle's eye,

sparkling . . . . . .

for that moment

that lasts forever . ..

*********************************************

I took all these pictures around Clackamas Town Center near Portland . . .  A small meadow next to the I-205 freeway, inspired me the most . .. and all the art, hanging on poles which intrigue me . . .tend to appear in the most amazing places . . . where they capture the sun and reflect it back to the observer . . .