With Friends

There is a little sapling

Growing

In front of me.

All alone
The grass grows beneath it.
But can the grass know what it knows
From where they grow?
There are tall trees
all along the sides.
But so far away
They must seem.
Then I think of the wind.
That a tree does not see.
It only feels the wind as it passes.
The little one must feel
that the friends are near.
For the tree has never known "far away."
The tree lives in such good company.
It does not bother to see the distance.
Only does it feel the wind
Between it's fingers.
Like the reassuring grasp
Of a held hand
On a long walk
With Friends.

What It's Like to Have Wings

All along the allusionist plains

And through the trees of strenuous strain

Onward and forward and forthwith they went

Hither and thither, like wind, never spent

Like seams of a dream thought and then sought

They went where wily ones told ought to naught

Over the valleys, and through all the fields

With no need for sword, and no need for shield

For love laid in wait around every veer

In all corner and crevice, a soul was found near

And with nothing left to tarry and bare

Everything left was left out to share.