The Scribe Poem by manny moreno

The Scribe



White sage smolders
in red abalone shell
and the fragrant smoke
bows to the ONE.

Outside in a mild breeze
I lounge before the sun, my eyes
ride a hummingbird
zooming in wild abandon.

I should be writing
stories in my mind
begging to be told,
but this tiny creature
has me captive on its wings.

Who will know I was here
and this was taking place,
for shadows on the ground
have neither tongues nor eyes.

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