burny peter

Pheasant

God, make me that sweet, special thing-

hidden in that snow clad mountains
which kiss the skies and are crowned
by the diamond glitter of sun, -

the secret ways to reach it
are revealed to a solitary bird
during unique days of nature-

when that lone king of the whole universe desires so,
oh! thee

Poem Submitted: Monday, September 14, 2009

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