As fragile as our heartbeat-so too are the Sparrows
Bathed softly by the Springtide breeze
Spectators of the bucholic of Mother Nature
Perched upon stenciled branches of old oak trees;
Cocooned into their very own kingdom
Where the honeysuckle grows wild and free
Their melodious song breaks open the silence
As the day carries along sweet destiny;
The catapillar leaves its shelter
It's metamorphosis very soon
Minutes tick off in sweet surrender
As morning unties it's way to noon;
Butterflies appear as if by magic
An experience unraveling into a greater thread
Velvety-silken wings-of deep orange and black
Voila, the Monarch's emerge, raising their sleepy heads!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My morning view to a tee breakfast outdoors all year round and the poem is my picture, the trees heavy laden with red bottle brush flowers give honey to the lorikeets...quote and the beauty of things with wings...regards