silverwing

The sun. 

it sparkles on the lake;

the dock, 

It is a piece of refuge, 

in  the middle of a place of endless water;

The eagle that flies silently overhead,

I can feel the elements call to me. 

I can feel the wind lapping at me 

as I stand on the mighty rock. 

The grainy texture hurts my bare feet, 

as we stare out at the mountain. 

Can you see the shadowed mountains?

With there bald spots

one shaped like the delves head.

Can you hear the call of the loons?

Their wails in the middle of the night

Do you see the harvest moon. 

Reflecting off the glass like water. 

as it points to us. Standing 

on the place of refuge.  

Thanks for coloring my life.
Even if the color is blood red.