Soul Catching Thistle

[orinocoflow]

The sun beats down,
Upon plains.
Moisture captures a crown around,
Forehead.
Strolling,
Through grass harps sharping,
Voices.
Envision dreams,
Yet to come.

Whistles of tin and thistle,
Shimmer like little dancing streamers,
Brightly withering across horizons.

A silly soul,
Catching the thistle.
Petals weaving,
Into air and tress.
Roll down the hill,
Air cuddling,
Fall.

Winking giggles flutter furiously,
Smacking wind with vigor flapping wings,
A hush arises,
from above tip top hill.
Mother and apron strings,
Smiling sweet.

Laughter...
Colored and Spinning wildly
Dancing charms glidding
Sprites
Mushrooms chopped into circles
Harmony
Sleep comes as the night blankets the sun.

--Well,...I hope you like...it was something on the spot...it will probably be tweaked...and pulled apart...but here is the beginning...

Much love,

Lynn

------------------
"When you collect the things that embody
strength for you,when you put them together,
when you open yourself to let each speak,
you will know something about the
sources of your strength." --Starhawk