On the Rise

Finding our north,  we fly
over the tops of mountains.
White petalled stonecrop, the stars
beneath our wings.

Wild roar of the waterfalls
echoes in our ears,
We are bathed in rainbows
and quenched by the rising mist.

Center of the solar system
we soar atop our kingdom,
Time unfolds in the wingspan
of ancient memory.

Gliding over a thousand years
of storm-washed stone,
we hover on the edge of day,
not yet awake enough to know
the direction is ours to choose.

5 thoughts on “On the Rise

  1. Sarah, this one made me think of the geese when they take off in spring and autumn. Even I know it’s not written that way .
    Very fine write, which I much enjoyed reading.
    groetjes, Francina

  2. Francina,

    One of my favorite childhood memories was from autumn when the geese migrated.
    To me that is the picture of the ultimate freedom, so it is probably not just coincidence
    that you saw that in the poem.

    Your comment has made my day!!

    Thank you!

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