The wildflowers, the mystic dancers…


 The mystic dancer..

Was a perfect day, Lake St. Clair was dancing and the sun, sun-kissed my face. The grandchildren were enjoying the water and I sat reading my Jack London’s book “When gods laugh.” I watched the million wildflowers dancing in a nearby field and dancing with the free-wind.  I wrote some words.

                      The mystic dancers..

Holy or not, they would dance freely and abundantly in the wind.

They were color of red, they were color of purple and the color of white.

Many disliked the strangers who would appear at-will and

I loved them. Every one.

They were mystic dancers for the people who loved nature.

They blessed the earth with a gentle beauty and they create a landscape of beauty,

I will not forget.

I hear my grandchildren playing and I told the wildflowers.

I want my grandchildren to be like you.

Forever free to roam and settle.

Never locked-up and forgotten.

Thank you for making my world more beautiful and wonderful.”

I walked to the wildflower field and I tell the goddess of the lake. Thank you for the beautiful day and showing me the wonders of my world. 

Coyote

Category : poetry
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