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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Magpie Tales 65 - Poem: The Origin



Where do the winds of Assisi
that sweep birds aloft,
dash butterflies gently off course
originate? Winds that kissed

the bearded face of St. Francis
that brought stillness to all creatures
around him. Their assemblage
replete with order.

Is there a beginning of such grace?
Does it start of nowhere and become?
Is it thrown swiftly underhand
by God himself?

And when it settles—   where
does it go?




2011© Michael A. Wells



Magpie Tales 65

6 comments:

Tess Kincaid said...

Lovely breezy airiness.

Helena said...

I could almost feel the breeze myself! A lovely tribute.

Donna B. said...

Lovely and light...

Trellissimo said...

A very thoughtful post, posing interesting questions.

Helen said...

I love the question 'where does it go?' I would love to experience that magical place - first hand!

Steve Isaak said...

Thoughtful, able versifying.