The Sun Directing Me - Poem by James McLain
Mazes, flowers wrapping vines unwinding
scent in blosom find with time to hum
a dancing song on wing through you.
After moon decending skys chill of air has
warmed a path decendant motes of light to
guide it's way.
Zippered powder floating down in dreams
fluttering hazy freely stilled small stream
without a bank to clutch it's tiny feet.
Enters fathers net to bless your sleep.
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