Miniscule Ride Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Being alone in a forest, birds singing their choral tunes,
awaiting others to join them on a miniscule ride through
this life.

Beautiful and liberal, forming on edges of a particular
horizon, looking for a chance to be born on the side of
a scattered mountain of racial intolerance and then die.

Knowing that no one else will ever come upon my music,
because it comes solely from within my essence and human
nature, with intellect orchestrating it all.